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EASTERN HOSPITALITY 



















































































































/OZCfLji ' 


THE 



OF THE 



JULIETTE T. BURTON. 



NEW YORK: 

MASONIC PUBLISHING COMPANY, 
626 Broadway. 

1872. 








.3 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by 
MASONIC PUBLISHING COMPANY, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 




7 ft. 


DEDICATION. 


I AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATE THIS BOOK 

TO THE 

SISTEES OF THE EASTEEN STAE, 


TRUSTING THAT EACH ONE MAT FIND 

PROFITABLE RECREATION 


FROM A PERUSAL OF ITS PAGES. 
















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y • . - - , - - - . • • 































preface, 



|pUE merit speaks for itself; it is useless to eulo¬ 
gize that which does not really bear intrinsic 
worth, for whatever is flimsy, trashy, or un¬ 
stable, will, of itself, fall to pieces, despite all the 
praise that may be heaped around. 

When one writes, if there is originality, it will 
at once strike the critical reader; if there is a rea¬ 
sonable basis, it will be seen; and if things are said which stir 
the fountains of feeling, they will be appreciated to their full 
value. 

We agree that when a woman writer puts finis to manu¬ 
script, and gives it over to her publisher, she experiences some¬ 
what the feelings of a mother whose daughter has just been 
married; she believes in the virtues of her child, but is fearful 
that another may not perceive them, and not until after the 
first issue does she feel certain that the shoals of disappointment 
are safely passed. 

We shall, in some of the succeeding sketches, take up the 
.general routes which have been well trod by previous writers, 
shall borrow the same strain that has been sung, but perhaps 






8 


pg>tl$fax3S, 


by some peculiarity of style, and through different authority 
than has been heretofore referred to, we may be able to stop at 
villas, to drink of fountains, traverse romantic paths that others 
had not discovered, and in our relations present other curious 
features to our readers. 

Plain matter-of-fact relations of incident in biographies seldom 
please; romance must gild a tale to make it agreeable. Without 
romance all creations would be dull; man would be a barbarian, 
woman a nonentity; wisdom, genius, liberty, would be indiffer¬ 
ently regarded, and the very heavens, even, would seem dim. 

It was under a romantic guise that Christ was born and 
walked the earth; he taught by parables, and mellow prose 
poems were his familiar speech; his life and martyrdom were 
typified by symbols, and even the advent of the Spirit in form 
of a dove was more novel and attractive than any usual mode 
of communicating would have been. Mythology, the exquisite¬ 
ness of romance, by its peculiar presentation of truth and virtue, 
founded the divine institution of Freemasonry. The whole 
stream of sentient existence has its spring-time of romance, and 
old age does not forget it. 

High coloring cannot create merit, but may surround it, and 
attract attention to modest worth which might otherwise never 
be brought forward to the observation of the best. We hope 
that the true lustre of our Five Jewels may shine into the hearts 
of all who love virtue, and that the Sisters of the Eastern Star 
especially may find traits of excellence, worthily depicted, in 
their histories. 





Ah ! this earth would be cold if the blush of romance . 

Was chased from its surface entire, 

If the pulse of man’s mind could no longer enhance 
The tone of life’s every-day lyre. 

If the ideal veil should be suddenly lift, 

To leave the nude object bereft 
Of the numerous graces of drapery’s gift, 

But half of its beauty’d be left. 

Should the magical stream of romance never lave, 

The root of the cherished “ Roof-Tree,” 

There would never hang garlands of fame for the brave, 

And the “mistletoe bough” wouldn’t be. 

1 * 



IO 


IP^eitule. 


Should woman divorce from her pathway this ray, 
Where the roses are—might come the thorn; 

And the blisses that now into man’s bosom pay, 

Might have in their stead—hope forlorn. 

’Tis the sorcerer’s wand that most cunningly gilds 
Existence’s rough places o’er; 

The prose-ground enchanted, where poesy builds 
Its love-lighted halls evermore. 

'’Tis the panacea mixed with stem duty’s demand 
That sweetens the gall in each cup; 

And chained to the clod would our hopes ever stand, 

If its light wing ne’er lifted them up. 

When Youth from Life’s volume by Time has been chased, 
And senility opens its page, 

’Tis the pencil by which every record is traced 
That brings joy to the eye of old age. 

Juliette T. Burton* 






ontenfs, 


PAGE 

Preface . 7 

Prelude . 9 

Ode to the Eastern Star .... 13 

The Turquoise— Adah .17 

The Topaz—Ruth ..... 61 

The Diamond—Esther.101 

The Emerald—Martha * 157 

The Ruby—Electa.197 




Illustrations, 


PAGE 

Frontispiece—Eastern Hospitality . . 2 

J The Turquoise before Jephthah . . 16 

Jephthah and his Companions returning 

from a Marauding Expedition . . .23 

1 The Topaz in the Field of Boaz . . 60 

The Diamond before King Ahasuerus . . 100 

Mordecai at the Palace Gate . . . 132 

The Man whom the King Delighteth to 

Honor . ..147 

^ The Emerald and Mary before Christ . 156 

v The Kuby—An Assembly of the Follow¬ 
ers of Christ.196 




<f§>ito to ths J5astom 

When the scene of life changes from pleasure to gloom, 
And the soul sees its midnight uncheered by a ray; 

When the spirit droops low ’neath the weight of its doom. 
As the hopes that once lighted its halls die away; 

Then there shines through the windows of heaven afar 
Bright gleams that bring peace from a beautiful Star, 

The Star of the East, that most beautiful Star. 

When the willows are waving o’er graves wherein lie 
The first-born of mothers, whose tears will not dry; 

Or the widow bends crushed with the blight of despair, 

All the comfort departed that made life so fair; 

Then there comes through the vista of sorrow afar, 

For the cheerless a light from a beautiful Star, 

The Star of the East, that most beautiful Star. 

May harmony bring in its circle of light 
All the colors that make up a halo as bright 
As charity, patience, long-suffering, and love, 

Can catch from reflection of Jewels above, 

Which shine through celestial gates set ajar: 

In blessing and peace on our beautiful Star. 

Juliette T. Burton. 










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THE TURQUOISE BEFORE JEPHTHAH. 


















































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































I. 


T l>e # urquoise, 

ADAH. 

“ She was liis only child; besides her he had neither son nor 
daughter.” 

JHESE words at once suggest a volume 
of possibilities, unfold a sacred 
page, indite a tender strain, and draw a 
holy picture. Man’s nature, corrugated 
to suit bis sphere of practical contact 
with discordant or opposing elements, 
has, reserved, beneath those hard rinds, a sweet sap 
of sentiment for the tenderer handling of woman; 
a secret, interior, accordant instrument of the soul, 
his heart of hearts, which but a few, in any man’s 
lifetime, may play upon. 



18 ~ JS [ iv $ JrZvtzU ni (Dmat 


There are mere surfaces of feeling which graduate 
from the positively stem, and these may be caught 
by occasional passions and mellowed for the mo¬ 
ment, but, like tracks in the sand, they pass away. 
Not so with this inner music; its strains, once 
awoke, can never cease vibration, and will be sacred 
to one master-hand alone. That master-hand may 
not always know its capabilities to torture or to 
soothe. Happy, thrice happy, the man who has for 
his genius one who will not awaken weird, wild 
notes of distortion, but who will woo the tenderest 
pathos of enjoyment. 

Jephthah, the hunter, the judge, the mighty man 
of valor, before whom none stood in point of execu¬ 
tive force of will, whose brawny figure might be 
likened to the mountain-side—for his thews and 
sinews stood out like roots; his grizzly beard tossed 
about by his motions looked like vines swayed by 
the wind; his eyes were brilliant as the sun’s rays 
reflected from granite; and his voice was loud like 
the roar of the cataract—Jephthah, the iron man, 
had yet, beneath all this exterior hardness, the clear 
running fountain of paternal love, which could be 



Jpl&s Jptu^quxxiss—JSLiiah. 


19 


played in every variation of delight by the magic 
touch of his only child—a daughter. 

Of all states of perfection to which a woman may 
aspire, none is more divine than that of filial devo¬ 
tion. In the truly amiable daughter may be found 
the germs of all other fitness; sister, wife, and 
mother are born out of a good daughter, and man 
need never fear to choose for ivife the woman who 
has nobly sustained that relation. In the Bible his¬ 
tory, singularly enough, there is no personal appel¬ 
lative signified to the heroine of so much tragical 
romance. She is called throughout simply “ Jeph- 
thah’s daughter.” Modern associations attach to 
their symbolical representations of this character 
the name of Adah, whose poetical definition is 
“powerful perfume, or strength and sweetness,” and 
we will occasionally, for the sake of clearness, call 
Jephthah’s daughter, Adah. 

She was of the fairness of the moon, the bright¬ 
ness of the stars, and the goodness of the summer 
dews, to use oriental descriptiveness; in less equiv¬ 
ocal terms, we might draw her picture, and for a 
perfect portrait refer all to Dore’s most exquisite 



20 jFsurAts txf ths dD^istrt. 


painting of “ Jephthah’s daughter and the maidens, 
on the mountain bewailing her sad fate.” No houri 
of Arabic celebrity, or peri of oriental verse, was 
ever more beautiful in form and feature: the lus¬ 
ciousness of perfect proportion, with the rich tints 
of high color, made her surpassingly attractive in 
mere physique , while the soul , that was fitted to the 
very highest tone of moral and virtuous principle, 
reflected through her countenance its marvellous 
finish, glorifying the flesh into a spiritual love¬ 
liness. Her mind was cultivated; for from all of 
the barbaric or heathenish ages there have been 
handed down to us records of the educational rules 
of the period; and whether or not it lay in the same 
line of orthography with modern schools, it was suf¬ 
ficient to enlighten the pupil up to its own period. 

She -was a skillful housewife. From her infancy 
she had had no mother, and had stood at the head 
of her father’s household. The women of that day 
were skilled in knitting, weaving, and embroidering 
dexterously, the most cunning articles of exquisite 
design and finish ; and although the most patrician 
dame, as well as the plebeian maid, took part in 



Jplhs jpHuttqufliss—JSLdaft. 


21 


servile work when the occasion became imperative, 
yet the hands of Adah showed no signs of rough 
occupation; they were fair and stainless, and were 
well adapted to silk embroidery. Women dyed 
beautiful colors; and some of the most enterprising 
were engaged in trade,—dealt in purple dye-stuffs 
alone. These dyes were to be had, after much peril 
and cost, from foreign lands. Woman was a trader, 
and engaged in ordinary merchandise then, as well 
as now, as in the book of Proverbs may be found 
the words: “ She maketh fine linen, and selleth it, 
and delivereth it to her merchant.” Before the time 
that Adah became old enough to realize the need 
of a mother’s tender training, she was deprived of 
that mother, and afterward was grieved sorely and 
painfully at the oft-repeated absences of her father 
from home. 

Many and painful were the periods of separation 
from her sole guardian and friend, for his habits as 
hunter, and afterward as general of a great army, 
subjected him to innumerable perils, of which the 
quick perception and keen affection of Adah always 
apprized her. His love was to her all that made 



22 




the skies seem bright; an assurance of his personal 
safety was essential to her happiness. Often, when 
in company with men of roving habits, wild rangers 
of the borders, spoilers and banditti, he would call 
for his black steed; which, like his master, “ scented 
the battle afar,” and was anxious to be gone. Adah 
would on those occasions fasten his war-harness 
around him : her delicate hands buckled the armor, 
while her white teeth gleamed from between lips 
which parted in smiles, yet which only smiled to 
hide the tears that were crowding to her eyes, yet 
these, as a soldier’s daughter, she heroically com¬ 
manded to stay. She longed for the days of warfare 
and violence to cease, and prayed from a heart of 
piety—emotive prayer. Constitutional, spontaneous 
devotion was her habit. Prayer not left to grow 
stagnant, and only to burst out on some great occa¬ 
sion into jets of sensibility, but which arose with 
the morning sun, and only ceased when sleep settled 
upon her. To pray was to her a necessity : to 
whom could she tell the terrible anxieties which her 
filial affection, in the exigencies of her father’s 
peculiar life, induced ? To the Lord God of Israel, 






. 


































1 9 











-V : 


















1 • ♦ 






















- -* 












JEPHTHAH AND HIS COMPANIONS RETURNING FROM A MARAUDING EXPEDITION. 






















































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































Jptwqmxis£—JUdah. 


23 


she looked for consolation; from Him alone might 
any comfort come. Many a time Adah gazed up 
at the stars which shine so directly down from the 
cloudless azure-tinted heavens of the Orient, and 
tried, by invocation, to penetrate the veil that cur¬ 
tained between her and the Divinity. Devout joy 
was native to her temperament, and was height¬ 
ened by the sweet entertainment she gave it. By 
giving the history, cursorily, of Jephthah, we may 
with more facility glide into the tlrama of Adah’s 
subsequent story. 

Jephthah, it is stated, was an illegitimate son of 
Gilead, whose wife had other sons. These sons were 
enraged and jealous at Jephthah’s sharing with them 
their patrimonial rights; and when they grew up 
they forcibly expelled him from their premises. 

In his exile, being too proud to dig, or beg, 
he conceived a taste for the sword, and joined 
to himself men of lascivious habits, extravagant,' 
reckless, who by their own extravagance were 
reduced to poverty; and with such he marauded 
the borders. By his intrepidity, and wonderful 
prowess in arms, Jephthah soon gained high 



24 xrf ths <f§)£i:e#t. 


renown for bravery, strategy, and success; and when 
Israel was very sorely distressed by the Ammon¬ 
ites, and when they found themselves incompetent 
to organize their numbers into military order, and 
they could not find among them a leader, the elders 
assembled and unanimously declared Jephthah the 
nominee for general-in-chief of their armies. It 
seems that this was a sore reflection upon the chil¬ 
dren of Israel, and proves that it must have been 
through disobedience and alienation from the laws 
of their religion, that they were now reduced to such 
a necessity as that of calling upon one who was by 
Jewish law not fit for the place ; for, “ He who was 
the son of a harlot might in no wise rule among 
them.” 

But necessity overcomes many scruples, and the 
elders themselves made most flattering concessions 
to Jephthah, hoping to gain his consent; and they 
said to him, “ Come, and be our captain.” They 
tried to flatter him with allusions to his martial 
genius, their conviction of his bravery, and used 
every inducement to influence him to become their 
leader. Jephthah would not at first be prevailed 



J^Elhs ®wquxxi$$—JP£dah. 


25 


upon to accept command of the army, urging as ob¬ 
jection that some of his brothers who had persecuted 
him were among the elders. So far is the prejudice 
of man sometimes carried, that no prospect of per¬ 
sonal aggrandizement is sufficient to wipe off wrongs, 
or to reconcile them to close contact with those tow¬ 
ard whom they have once formed strong dislikes. 
It is a strict rule in Israelitish laiv to defend the poor 
and fatherless ; this his brothers had failed to do in 
his own case ; he wished them to realize their own 
injustice before he could consent to become a leader 
for his country. His patriotism was zealous, but his 
prejudice was stronger; and not until after much per¬ 
suasion, and their consenting to conform to his pre¬ 
scribed terms, would he be prevailed upon to become 
their chief. We cannot admire the general tenor of 
Jephthah’s early life, yet must give him praise for an 
independence of mind, a heroic fortitude, which could 
alone have induced him to decline again, even after 
his brothers had made concession, a place that he 
felt was one of such honor, that only the positive 
necessity of the moment could have instigated them 
to offer it to him. 


2 



26 J8\ive jewels »f the <Dnietvt. 


Jephthah said unto the elders of Gilead: “ Did 
you not hate me, and expel me out of my father’s 
house ? and why are ye come unto me now in dis¬ 
tress?” And the elders among whom were his 
brothers, entreated him to come, described the un¬ 
fortunate condition of the Jews who had gone astray 
after idols, and pointed to the probability of their 
deliverance, not only from their enemies, but from 
further wickedness, if he would agree to become their 
leader. So at last, Jephthah, unable to withstand 
their repentance, after he had stipulated with them 
for certain conditions, consented to be their captain. 
He required them to sign a pledge to this effect: If 
he returned successful from his battles, they would 
still retain him for their leader. This they did. 

Jephthah had learned in his experience of shifts, 
amidst every variety of mind, that a man may be 
exalted when expediency renders it necessary for the 
general good, but that when events settle down 
ordinarily, the same t man is apt to be let sink back 
into his original obscurity; as the necessity for his 
effort is removed he becomes useless as an ornament, 
and is consequently forgotten. 



Jplhs Iplu^qtmse—jUdah. 


27 


Jephtliah had some ambition ; and a strong incen¬ 
tive worked the lever of his aspirations. He remem¬ 
bered the fresh rose that bloomed in his bower, and 
liked to shed lustre over it, through valorous deeds 
and well-earned praise. His heart also repented it, 
of the lawless habits which he had assumed; and 
he determined to reform his hitherto wild, reckless 
life, and to become a man honored among men, and 
approved by the God of his forefathers, from whom 
he had strayed. 

No one who seriously reflects upon the disadvan¬ 
tage under which he labored when a child—for from 
his very birth he had lived among boys who were 
selfish, avaricious, and entirely ignorant of the prin¬ 
ciples of the beautiful laws of Jewish equity, which 
handled each man, woman, and child, under every 
circumstance and condition, as tenderly as justice 
would allow, boys who scrupled not to heap insult 
upon injury, who taunted him with the sins of his 
mother, derided with jeers and laughter every sign of 
chivalric conduct, and set at naught his youthful ex¬ 
ploits—nobody could wonder at his irregular habits 
after he became a man. And again he had no mother 



28 Jg-tve jewels of the (Drionf. 


to watch over him 9 and this is a whole argument 
against probable morality in any man. 

He was a child born neither of a wife, a concubine, 
nor a mistress, but of a stray woman, whose position 
excluded the son from recognition in any plane of 
social obligation: he was taken into the house of his 
father’s wife, who jealously and hatefully regarded 
him as the usurper of her lawfully-born children’s 
rights, and she urged her rude sons by her example 
to their course of cruelty toward the orphan. 

To crush down an independent, high spirit, by 
sneers, to keep ambition tied hand and foot by pecu¬ 
niary poverty, is like fastening a lion, fresh from the 
wild woods, the broad forests, rolling tides of waters, 
the clear, free, unfettered light of heaven, the liberty 
that Nature gives, in a cage half-dark ; and leads to 
perverted talent, vitiated tastes, and coiAmpt habits. 

Cruelty to his manliness, hatred of his name, and 
contempt for his society, were hard things for a 
proud lad to bear; and when his brothers, deter¬ 
mined that he should no longer live with them, and 
by brute force overcame the father’s authority and 
Jephthall’s strength, and thrust him forth into the 



—JUdah. 29 

wide world, alone, without a resting-place for his 
head besides the ground, or a roof to shelter him be¬ 
sides the canopy of the skies, without woman’s hand 
to smooth a single hardship from his path, and with 
scarcely any conception of God’s lore for each one of 
his chosen race ; it is not strange that Jeplithah in 
his undisciplined state of mind should cultivate the 
fiercer passions, and for expression of them, take 
delight in daring exploits, startling adventures, and 
dangerous feats. 

Jephthah’s life, from the time that he was a youth 
of perhaps eighteen to full manhood, was not filled 
with commissions of willful sin, but his lawlessness 
was rather the result of biased circumstances. Such 
a life is not so heinous in the eye of Omnipotence, 
as the transgressions of moral law which men of cul¬ 
tivated minds and golden opportunity often weave 
over great spaces of their lives, transgressions upon 
which the eye of respectability has not rested and 
named crime ; sins which have been wrapped up 
under the extenuating circumstance of wealth, or 
hidden behind the sanctity of ecclesiastical dignity ; 
yet which, for all that, are in reality, deepening 




30 jewels of fixe <g>tjioot. 


and tightening their folds, hardening, all the time, 
the fibres of moral being. When at the bar of im¬ 
mortal judgment these men stand together, Jephthah 
may be the first to reach forth and take the sceptre 
of love, and the sign of retribution. 

Circumstance is the grand shaper of human con¬ 
duct ; principle is often subordinate to its stern rela¬ 
tions. Fact is fact; and necessity is invincible. 

It is not stated in Sacred history, nor in any com¬ 
mentary, where Jephthah married his wife, but when 
he left his native place he went to Tob, whose poetic 
interpretation is “ good, pleasant, agreeableand 
as he became associated with men, some of whom 
had held high places, were rich and influential at 
one time, it is probable that in one of these families 
he found an accomplished, lovely woman, who, 
under the inspiration of love, forgetting or not 
knowing the discrepancies in their social spheres, 
married him. Jephthah became rich through his 
spoils, and was afterward renowned for his mighty 
deeds in arms ; possibly grief at the daily-increasing 
jeopardy in which the life of her idolized husband 
was placed induced premature disease and conse- 



JpRhs jp^utiqu#is£—Jltdah. 


3i 


quently the wife’s death, when Adah was at a very- 
tender age. 

It was the custom in ancient days, as well as now, 
for ladies of distinction to have numerous servants, a 
maid or man-servant to fill every place in the detail 
of household economy. Jephthah’s wife was not 
without tier share of luxury and the usual appoint¬ 
ments of ladies of rank. It was a romantic country, 
and was a fit field for cultivating the sentimental of 
emotional, and we may fancy Jephthah’s bride often 
wandering with her maids along flowery foot-paths, 
or up steep ravines, and over flimsy foot-bridges, 
scanning precipitous heights, where vines of luxu¬ 
riant fruitage lined the banks around and reached 
the topmost boughs of the trees, while the variegated 
tints of the plumage of sweet singing-birds made 
elegant contrast, and their trills vocalized the air. 
Often would she wend her footsteps down the glen, 
and across the moor, stretching her gaze afar in 
hope of being rewarded by the sight of her lord, 
her chief, her hero, her husband, after he had re¬ 
mained absent a longer time than he proposed; and 
we can see how the stalwart form of Jephthah tow- 



32 


^E\tue jewels of the (SDtjierrt. 


ered al)ove her dimensions, as he, after springing 
from his foaming steed, and giving a quick glance 
back at his comrades in the distance, whom he had 
outridden, opened his arms and fondly embraced 
his gentle wife, calling her, “ his rose,” and 
repaying her, in that one loving caress, for all 
the tears she had shed on account of his 
absence. 

• Some of the most love-sick heroes of romance 

have been described in Bible history, and the sturdy 

warriors of that day and time open a wider field for 

romantic speculation than anything of modern era. 

All that could be procured to adorn his house for 

his wife’s pleasure, Jephtliah secured; no time or 

expense was spared, whereby her comfort might be 

established or her pleasures enhanced. Jeplithah 

, > 

loved her still more dearly because she had taken 
him when life had so drear an aspect, and there was 
nothing in his circumstances which could have pre¬ 
sented an inducement for any woman to wish to 
share. She had made choice of him because of the 
glory that love, which is so peculiar, so mysterious, 
had painted about him. 



ri’liU' 4 , —JUdah. 


33 


Love, oli! so good, the comforter, 

Divinity and arbiter, 

Of each one’s life; a thing so sweet 
It will all difficulties meet. 

If it may but give itself; It cares 
Not for reproach, or blame'; but dares. 

They loved one another enthusiastically, and 
when their first-born, their only-born, was given 
them, their loves were monumented in the sweet 
little scion of their blent selves. 

Desolate and drear, after this dear wife died and 
was buried in the tombs among her ancestors, would 
his life have been, if the black-haired babe had not 
represented her, and as the child grew into woman¬ 
hood, if she had not been all with which such a 
mother might have endowed her daughter. She 
inherited every beautiful trait from both parents. 
She resembled her mother in form and feature. 
She had imbibed, from the peculiar nature of her 
father’s pursuits, a stronger spirit of endurance, and 
a keener sense of the duties incumbent upon a sol¬ 
dier’s daughter, than her mother, who had been 
brought up amid the peaceful domestic scenes of 



34 ;IS\iV£ Jfewsis xxf tbs 


civil life, could ever gain. She was flaccid even, 
to the most acute sensibility, yet in moments of 
imminent anxiety or impending peril, she could call 
up the stern adamantine of self-control to a degree 
which some, who called themselves philosophers, 
might have been proud to emulate. 

In her childhood her father’s retainers were wont 
to show her the most chivalrous attention, which 
early gave an individual strength to her manner, and 
created a self-reliance which served a good purpose 
in her life of double duty. Adah had a luxuriance 
of black hair which waved in rich masses around a 
head beautifully shaped. She was remarkable for 
the length and texture of her hair, among the 
companions with whom she associated. There 
were many maidens in Tob, and as her father’s 
house was well appointed, and an accession of num¬ 
bers made no material difference in her domestic 
arrangement, she had always staying with her five 
or six young friends who cheered her in her father’s 
absence. Many a sweet story of love and valor and 
knightly escort would one relate to the others, each 
taking their turn to recite. Flowers grew luxuri- 



FEIhs I®wqtt 0 i$£—jptdafr. 35 


antly in that region. Around her, on every side, 
Adah was accustomed to glorious colors, sweet 
scents, and in varieties of rose, lily, and pome¬ 
granate. Fresh fountains of water, sending out 
perpetually their jets like liquid diamonds, shone 
between the green vesture of the olive and 
the scarlet of the azalia, making a sylvan-like 
scene. All these attractions attached this child of 
beauty to her home, and through the beautiful she 
was attached to life. Life is desirable; there 
is enough on this shore to make it enjoyable 
wherever there is a spirit wise enough to look 
beyond petty events to the universal grand 
scheme of eternal good which is in our very 
midst. 

Sweetly sang Adah; tenderly she touched her 
timbrel; and sometimes her festivals were marked 
by rare displays of the poetry of motion which 
terpsichorean amateurs might well praise.. Jeph- 
thali’s daughter was religiously trained; her 
mother had not been an idolater, but was one of 
the chosen people; her religious devotions had 
never been biased by any association with 



36 jewels of the 


heathens. Adah also served the God of her fathers 
with all the fervor of her ardent nature. 

One day, when Adah was seventeen, and the full 
beauties of ripeness which had entered into com¬ 
pact to create a faultless living thing were satisfied 
that they had clothed her with so celestial a dower 
that she stood more like a spiritual vision of angelic 
design than as mere woman, she took hold of the 
hand of Beta, her favorite companion, and went 
toward the foot of a high hill or mountain in the 
rear of her house. Not being afraid, they wandered 
beyond their destination, and came unexpectedly 
upon a band of strange men and women, who were 
not called gypsies in those days, but who were verily 
of the same kind. They were a mixture of races 
for whom we have scarcely a name ; offshoots from 
tribes who were ostracised from the privileges of 
name and nationality; roving and unsettled, but 
peaceful. They pitched their tents anywhere, some¬ 
times planting a little colony in a night, making a 
lively foreground to the blunt, scraggy mountain¬ 
sides, remaining for a short time, and leaving as 
suddenly. 



FEfrs J^ut:quxxis$—JUjlaft. 


37 


As Adah and her friend wandered out of their 
usual route, they came suddenly upon one of these 
little encampments of snow-white tents, and turned 
to retrace their steps, but a form rose up be¬ 
fore Adah, strongly marked against the sky, and 
stood as if spell-bound, gazing upon her beauty, of 
which, in her innocence of vanity, she did not 
think. 

It was the form of a man, athletic and symmetri¬ 
cally proportioned ; he was graceful, and seemed to 
be well versed in the etiquette of the day, for he 
took off one of his sandals and laid it upon his head. 
This meant, in polite interpretation, humility or 
acknowledgment of superiority, either of beauty, 
sex, rank, or power. Greatly surprised as she was, 
Adah was too kind not to return the salutation, and 
when he made known to her that he was her 
mother’s near relation, and had lately come from 
Moab on a visit to Tob, she invited him to come to 
her father’s house, for the maidens of that time were 
hospitable, and it is well remembered to what extent 
Eebecca carried this fine quality, in giving, not only 
to the messenger at the well water from her pitcher, 



38 Js-wd jewels of the t. 


but by also watering his camels with her own fair 
hands. 

Andra was curiously observing the manners of 
these people who occupied the tents when the unex¬ 
pected apparition of his cousin was presented. He 
went home with Adah and Beta, where he tarried 
until Jephthah returned, by whom he was well re¬ 
ceived. The modest and dignified customs of the 
East, dictated retirement to the females of a house, 
not from inferiority of position or servitude of sta¬ 
tion, but because inclination approved of what 
custom dictated; but neither was it a sign of rank 
to be cold and restrained by artificial laws. Adah, 
as mistress of the house, gave kind attention to her 
cousin Andra, and sat with him and her father, 
manifesting in a hundred ways to the delighted 
senses of Andra her superiority and virtue. The 
word virtue has its definition in more than one 
sense, it implies mental and moral strength, energy, 
and resolution. 

The sweet-lipped god could not stay away, could 
not abide in the distance when there was such de¬ 
lightful opportunity offered for his manifestation, 



Jplhs —jHAiah. 


39 


and before the veiled heart of Adah was fairly alive 
to its own susceptibility it was seized, appropriated, 
and enlisted under a new order; something so 
sweet, so blissful came into her soul in return, that 
its excess created a suffusion of blushes upon her 
face, a soft languor in her eyes, and a hesitation in 
her manner, which declared to Andra that his own 
disease was caught, and that each had the other’s 
symptoms. Such joys as her mother had ex¬ 
perienced in the days of her courtship, and as all 
women from Eve successively down have realized, 
and must still entertain as long as time lasts, 
had now sprung up in the fresh soil of her nature 
to impress it indelibly. The great inspiration of 
this new intelligence is wonderful in forming the 
character of a young girl. 

Adah had always, from a mere child, assiduously 
performed work in the household, and she mani¬ 
fested a judgment and discrimination beyond her 
years. Her own fingers worked the elegant curtains 
which hung at the oriental doorways, or embroi¬ 
dered the quilted coverlets for the divans. Her in¬ 
genuity devised models for vases and frames, with 



40 Jftftttsls xxf tb£ <H> 


which lier beautiful garden was decorated. The 
situation and arrangement of the sweet shrubs and 
flowers were suggested by her, and her own dress 
was superintended and sometimes partially made 
by herself. She had naturally a love for gorgeous 
color; it was what her eye had rested upon from 
her birth; the amethyst sky at sunset, the moun¬ 
tains tinged with hues of rose, and violet, and 
orange were familiar to her eye ; birds also, varying 
in tint from every shade of purple to faintest azure, 
she had always seen. When Andra first met her, 
she wore an embroidered dress of scarlet with a 
blue bodice, a thin, white, soft veil which floated 
around her figure and shaded, without concealing, 
her features. She was tasteful, industrious, econom¬ 
ical, and charitable. She wholly fulfilled the text, 
“ She stretcheth out her hand to the poor ; yea, she 
reacheth forth her hands to the needy.” Her 
charity widened, increased, and encompassed all 
within her reach. She had been patient under 
great suspense, and from her religious nature, many 
doubts must naturally have agitated her mind as to 
the moral character of her father’s life, and her con- 



Jplfr# Jpluttqu#i$:e— JSCdrab. 


41 


viction of his lack of piety must have pained her. 
Young as Adah was, she had had occasion to be 
made thoughtful and prudent; she had learned the 
true submission of a meek spirit under the dispensa¬ 
tions of life ; she had needed but the touch of love to 
baptize her into 'perfect womanhood; through this 
sacrament she now came, and was ready for sacrifice, 
or any oblation that circumstance might dictate. 

Their union was approved by Jephthah, and the 
happy young lover was ready to perform his vows 
unto the Lord. Soon after this, Jephthah was so¬ 
licited earnestly to take the lead of the army to 
rescue the Israelites from the invasion of the Am¬ 
monites and others, to which proposition he finally 
assented upon their acceptance of his terms, which 
were that he should be made constant Judge of 
Israel on his successful return. Though full of 
martial impulse, Jephthah was humane, and always 
avoided bloodshed if possible ; therefore he sent to 
the leaders in Ammon terms of capitulation, to 
which they returned answer : “ That the land of the 
Israelites was theirs; that it had originally belonged 
to them, from whom it had been taken by the 



42 JSTiue Jfowsls xrf 


Amorites, who had been dispossessed by the Israel¬ 
ites ; and that on these grounds they claimed the 
restitution of their lands.” 

Jephthah, believing that the land belonged to the 
Israelites by right of conquest from the actual pos¬ 
sessors, would not recognize any claim of antece¬ 
dent possessors, who not only had rendered them 
no help but had showed them some hostility. The 
Ammonites reasserted their claims, and on this issue 
hostilities were inaugurated. 

Before engaging in battle Jephtliah vowed a vow 
unto the Lord, to be fulfilled in the result of vic¬ 
tory. This brings our narrative to the thrilling 
and tragical incidents connected with Jephthah’s 
daughter. The vow which Jephthah so thought¬ 
lessly made was as follows : 

“ And Jephthah vowed a vow unto the Lord, and 
said, If thou shalt without fail deliver the children 
of Ammon into my hands, then it shall be that 
whatsoever cometh of the doors of my house to 
meet me, when I return in peace from the children 
Df Ammon, shall surely be the Lord’s, and I will 
offer it up for a burnt-offering.” 



J33u£qu$i$£—JUdah. 


43 


The general nature of a vow is that of a promis¬ 
sory oath, of future service. Yows were very com¬ 
mon under the Old Testament dispensation. Those 
in distress, sickness, or difficulty, made promises to 
God of certain stipulated services in the event of 
their deliverance or success. David says, “Thy 
vows are upon me, O Lord; I will render praise 
unto thee, for thou hast delivered my soul from 
death. Wilt thou not deliver my feet from falling, 
that I may walk before God in the land of the 
living?” 

Adah, although gentle in disposition, was not 
without fervid patriotism, and this the recollection 
of the annals of her kindred and country helped to 
intensify. 

Every sympathetic feeling in her nature was 
aroused when her father was called to a high 
post of honor by the elders and rulers, and filial 
affection, piety, and emotions of ambition for the 
success of the Israelites stirred her sensibilities. 
Her interest was doubled in the coming contest 
when Jephtliah selected Andra as one of his officers, 
his fame also becoming involved. 



44 JSli'ttG Jewels txf tl%$ (!Dt|i 


Warfare has, incidental to it, tragedies of fearful 
importance. Ancient tradition and modern account 
agree that upon its track there follow a succession 
of horrible occurrences: the black-winged messenger 
of disease, disaster, crime, demoralization; and that 
tragedy becomes habitualized to the hour. 

The preparation for a severe conflict at arms 
throws a country into a fermentation of excitement; 
martial spirit runs high, ambition forgets, the possi¬ 
bility of defeat, and excited imagination crowns every 
one a victor. Money flows; the national exchequer 
runs out freely, extravagance knows no stop; and 
men, like puppets, play upon springs which may 
snap in a moment, and leave them limp and disabled. 

Though anxiety for her father’s and lover’s safety 
greatly agitated Adah’s mind, yet she seized the 
contagion of hope, and was thrown into the general 
feeling which commonly exercised all; so that she 
did not, until the very moment of parting came, 
realize the terrible peril in which all who were 
dearest to her would be placed. 

When the great army, as far as her eye could 
reach, was stretched across the plain, awaiting but 



Jplto J^wquxxiss—JUdah;. 45 


the signal of their captain to start for glorious con¬ 
quest or for sad defeat, Adah, for one moment 
forgetful of all save the womanly tenderness in her 
heart, twined her arms around Jephthah and pa¬ 
thetically entreated him not to expose, carelessly, 
his beloved form to the mark of the enemy. Jeph¬ 
thah held this treasure, prized higher than all earth¬ 
ly things save his honor, to his heart, then placing 
her hand in Andra’s, turned to his war-horse, 
mounted, and was gone. 

The maiden raised her face to her lover’s, and in 
one long, silent kiss, the blisses of love were poured 
out, which neither the circumstance of its occasion 
nor the possibility of its being final could make less 
sweet. One pressure against his strong breast, 
whose emotions were strenuous for love and sacri¬ 
ficial to duty, and he, too, was gone. 

Desolate days and nights were passed; through 
which Adah shivered under the cruel chill of appre¬ 
hension. The excitement of preparation being over, 
the endurance of separation seemed hard. The 
flowers bloomed as gayly, the birds sang as merrily, 
the sky shone as bright, friends surrounded her, 



46 JtwzU xif tbs 


God was above, yet there was a yearning after the 
, absent ones; a longing for their safety which created 
a gloomy mental mist; melancholy settled upon her. 
Music could no longer amuse, books no longer 
solace, and her handmaidens often found her weep¬ 
ing. It was not for herself that she would have 
indulged such sorrow, but for those whose lives, 
precious to themselves as well as her, were in peril. 

In the meantime Jephthah, girded with his unerr¬ 
ing sword, led his army from the declivities across 
Jordan, where the opposing hordes were gathered 
as thick as blades of grass. He became inspired 
with strength from invisible heavenly powers ; the 
mantle of valor settled over him; his hands were 
controlled and his voice sent commands which were 
like utterances of the gods; he dashed upon the 
enemy like a falling bolt, amid gleaming spears and 
willing blades, and came out clear of wounds, un¬ 
hurt by anything, after hosts had closed again and 
again about him. At last, like waves held by the 
tide, his enemies fell back; the rout was complete, 
Jephthah was victor. 

His military tactics proved that no mean master- 



Jplhs JpltqquflisB—jUdaft. 


47 


hand guided him. His religious nature came forth 
from the obscurity of perverted life, his vow 
returned to him after the success of his arms; and 
he praised God in his heart, and determined by the 
pious observance of that vow to expiate some of his 
past offences against divine law. 

He sent a herald before him to apprize his be¬ 
loved only child, who could touch the springs of his 
nature as none other might, of his victory and 
immediate return. 

Joy, unqualified delight, flooded Adah’s heart. 
Her country was saved; her father and lover left 
alive; were both made famous by their intrepidity 
and superior generalship! Smiles wreathed her 
face, all of the sleeping animation was restored, and 
the very goddess of pleasure herself might have 
patterned expressions from Adah’s eyes, lips, and 
whole countenance. 

Rejoicing was the motive of the hour; families 
and people all with one heart, acclamatory of 
praise, lifted their voices in thanksgiving. Only 
those who have lived in the midst of war can realize 
how gratefully peace comes. 



48 jewels txf tbs <fg>tiimrt. 


Jephthah’s daughter had cause to make great 
demonstration, and she called together hastily her 
household, and arranged with them plans for a 
festival. Rich cakes, preserves, and confectionery, 
meats and strong food, wine, nectarines, and grapes, 
were all gathered, arranged, and set in the grand 
hall for the returning generals and soldiers. Great 
was the excitement of the servants and maidens. 
Adah went around like a white, misty cloud, dropped 
a word here and there, or peeped over some gar¬ 
dener’s brawny shoulder, with a smile which out¬ 
shone the summer light that ravished his flowers, 
and repaid him for the wounds of thorns (which, 
alas! will grow everywhere), or the wanton riot set 
loose among his favorite beds and borders. 

Beauty sits well in every place; it can never be 
disproportioned to circumstance, but, like the sun¬ 
light, can measure any distance or fill any space. 
And Adah, under the shadow of the peasant’s lintel, 
or within the brilliant light of palace-hall, was still 
a welcome object. And now, in this hour of 
triumph, many who had been blessed by her hand 
came and brought offerings of sweet laurels or some 



jpihs J^utiquxxisu—jpliiah. 


49 


tender token of their appreciation, and Adah gladly 
received every kind demonstration. At last, after 
everything necessary for her feast had been pre¬ 
pared, the table spread, festoons of flowers hung in a 
triumphal arch in front of her doorway, the maidens 
assembled, she awaited the approach of her father 
and her lover. 

She had thought that, to please her lover, she 
would put on bridal attire, and it is possible that 
sweet visions of her nuptials actuated her. White 
embroidered silk, with a tunic over it of soft, float¬ 
ing, silver tissue, composed her dress. Pearls were 
around her wrists and arms above the elbows; 
around her neck, in her ears were large hoops of 
gold set with pearls. A white veil floated over her 
flowing hair, and gave to it the appearance of frost 
upon a raven’s wing. We can imagine her eager¬ 
ness for the meeting, how breathlessly she awaited 
the first intimation of their approach. 

With their harps and timbrels strung, 

Upon expectancy they hung; 

As, bending o’er, each lovely maid 
Her tribute of attention paid. 

3 




5o Jg^iue jewels of the 


The welcome signal came at last; 

One sigh from parted lips she cast; 

Then Adah floated forth to treat 
The heroes, with her greeting sweet. 

Like visions caught in happy dream 
The scene presented here might seem, 
’Twas if as angels', bright, had dropt 
From paradise, and warfare stopt. 

For grizzled warriors, whose arms 
Were tremulous of late alarms. 

And glittering steel, whose ardent track 
Was scored in blood, gave back. 

They made betwixt a pathway that 
The maid might reach him, who still sat 
Upon his steed, whose long locks caught 
By whipping winds to curls were wrought. 

His beard uncombed, in battle trim, 

Was knotted on his breast; and grim 
The warrior seemed, although 
His eye burned with a tender glow. 

Beneath the ragged outside stirred 
A thought of sweets to fame preferred; 
His “ singing-bird ” invoked the strain, 
And Adah ruled the chief again. 



—jUdah. 


5i 


Visions of her glad face and thoughts of the 
happy meeting indeed played through his brain and 
heart, and his aspiration took a high tone; he 
praised God for his victories, for the gift of his 
child, and determined to live in the future as became 
a judge in Israel, and the father of such a daughter. 
Just as his spirit seemed sweetened to its very ten- 
derest tone, he observed the swaying of his guard; 
and lo! through the avenue came flying a white 
cloud. God of Israel! ’twas his child, his Adah, his 
singing-bird, his lamb, his ring-dove, his bond to 
earth, his inspiration for heaven. She; she was to 
be offered up a living human sacrifice. 

Mechanically, in obedience to her loved voice, 
he dismounted. Adah, with every dimple playing 
in ecstacy to her smiles, threw her white arms 
around his war-stained breast and kissed him. 
Startled and astonished at his coldness, for he in¬ 
deed stood a monument of dumb, cold despair, she 
exclaimed, “ My father, my father, what is it, and 
what has thy Adah done in thy sight that she is not 
welcomed?” Then, indeed, the fountains of feel¬ 
ing were pierced and a way was opened for words; 



52 


JSTive jewels xrf the <2Drient. 


the warrior who had just stood a man of iron at 
the head of a great army, had seen men fall beneath 
his sword like grain before the reaper, and been 
unmoved, now shook like a reed swayed by th^ 
wind, and was bathed in tears; as the granite rock 
is baptized by the fountain that bursts from its own 
bosom. Suddenly he had been translated from the 
highest elevation of joy to the deepest dejection of 
despair. 

Adah, appalled at this great demonstration of 
sorrow, knelt at his feet, clasped his blood-stained 
knees, and cried again, “My father, why is this?” 
Then he answered her, “Alas, my daughter, thou 
hast brought me very low, and thou art one of them 
that trouble me; for I have opened my mouth unto 
the Lord and I cannot go back.” 

Stupefied for a moment, stunned, bewildered, 
horrified, Adah contemplated her father; then, 
seeming to realize it all, to understand the nature 
of the Israelitish vows, she slowly let her hands 
droop, closed her eyes, and seemed to pray. After 
that the w'oman prevailed; she thought of the suf¬ 
ferings of her father, her lover, and she put 



Jpth# J^Elu^uxxise—jUdaft. 53 


aside her sorrow for herself, and stood strong to 
bear their grief. So natural is it for womanhood to 
give , to bestow at its own cost, that to many women 
sacrifice is sweeter than favor; there are some 
women of this day who live martyrs, and who are so 
comforted under the infliction that they would 
hardly accept release if it were offered. It was 
after woman’s nature for Adah to look up almost 
cheerfully and answer, “ My father, if thou hast 
opened thy mouth unto the Lord, do to me accord¬ 
ing to that which hath proceeded out of thy mouth; 
forasmuch as the Lord hath taken vengeance for 
thee of thine enemies, even of the children of 
Ammon, let this thing be done for me; let me alone 
for two months, that I may go up and down upon 
the mountains, and bewail my virginity, I and my 
maidens.” 

This was all she asked, she made no other re¬ 
quirements, plead for nothing, urged no entreaties, 
used no reproaches, but only stipulated for two 
months longer of her sweet, fresh, beautiful life. 
Her lover asked nothing but that he might hold 
her to his heart once more and die; it seemed 



54 JRttra ni the 


that heaven heard his prayer, for we are told that 
his great grief induced fatal disease and caused his 
speedy death. 

We would fain close our history, would fold over 
the terrible tragedy, sublime in its very horror, a 
veil, but our readers call for the whole drama, and 
we set our face hard and follow Adah to the seclusion 
of her mountain retreat, whither she had repaired 
to do penance and sanctify herself for her sacrifice. 

We know that there are doubts about the actual 
fulfillment, to the letter, of Jephthah’s vow. To be 
deprived of the joys of connubiality and condemned 
to perpetual virginity was to the Jews a great afflic¬ 
tion, disgrace, and punishment; whereas to the 
Catholics, vice versa , it is an honor, and the surest 
means of securing divine favor. 

It is allowed by some that Jephthah might have 
fulfilled his vow so far. But assuming that no com¬ 
mutation of the full sentence was made, Adah was 
offered and slain; her flesh burned with fire, and 
the incense of the offering arose to His nostrils and 
was acceptable, according to the Israelitish faith, to 
the Lord God Almighty. 



Jplhs —JUttah. 55 


As another has forcibly illustrated the closing 
scene, we quote him, glad to escape the thrilling 
torture of describing the offering of so vital a thing 
as human life for a sacrificial spectacle. 

“ When the two months had expired, and the day 
arrived which was to bring this sad affair to a close, 
a vast multitude gathered together to witness the 
event. Precisely as the sun came on the meridian, 
she was seen, followed by a long train of her 
friends, wending her way down the mountain’s side 
to the fatal spot where the altar was erected, and 
her father, with an almost broken heart, was stand¬ 
ing, prepared to fulfill his vow. She approached 
him, and with one long kiss of affection bade him 
farewell. Taking hold of the thick mourning-veil 
which she wore, he drew it gently over her face and 
drew his sword. But she rapidly unveiled herself, 
and said she needed not to have her face covered, 
for she was not afraid to die . Her father replied 
that he could not strike the blow while she looked 
upon him, and again cast it over her. She threw it 
off the second time, and, turning from him, said she 
would look up to the heavens so that his hand 



56 Jfowsis xrf thD 


should not be unnerved by the sight of her face, 
but that she would not consent to die in the dark. A 
third time, however, he insisted, and a third time 
she as resolutely cast it off, this time holding the 
ends of it firmly in her hands, and then, in the 
hearing of the multitude, she solemnly declared 
that if this ceremony was insisted upon she would 
claim the protection of the law and refuse the fate 
she was otherwise willing to endure. 

“ She said it was the practice to cover the faces of 
murderers and criminals when they were about to 
be put to death, but for her part she was no criminal , 
and died only to redeem her father's honor . Again she 
averred that she would cast her eyes upward upon 
the Source of Light, and in that position she in¬ 
vited the fatal blow. It fell.” 

We are glad that the curtain has shut out the 
tragedy, and that we may hopefully raise it again 
upon heaven, where our sanctified, redeemed heroine 
has met her Andra, has looked upon motive , seen 
cause , and realized consequence . 

Jephthah after this became sanctified to the 
Lord. He judged Israel for six years, and was 



Jplbe JpltmquaisB—JP£d.afr. 57 


“ gathered to his fathers.” His piety is historical. 
His words have passed down successive generations 
as oracles. And all the years of his latter life ex¬ 
piated the offences of his youth. 

In Adah’s life we find a truth 
Which every woman knows, 

That virtue, planted in one’s youth, 

Through all one’s future grows; 

That modesty will throw a grace 
O’er genius, and devise 
A model for the highest place 
Among the good and wise. 

That beauty is a goodly thing, 

If coupled with desire 
To lift the intellect, and bring 
Genius and wisdom nigher. 

That sweet humility which craves 
No more than-it deserves 
Shuts off much cruel grief, and paves 
A path which it preserves. 

Though riches flow to magic touch, 

And high position buy, 

Yet woman knows that nothing such 

Her heart can satisfy. 

3 * 



58 JBuue jewels of the (Dsient. 


A meek and quiet spirit sees 
In humblest lot a peace, 

And circumstance of wealth and ease 
Her joy cannot increase. 

To bend one’s spirit low beneath 
The yoke of duty, may 
Fix on one’s brow the victor’s wreath 
In some far future day. 

The patient service of true good 
Through industry and might, 

By power supreme is understood 
And to the end worked right. 





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II. 



RUTH. 



UMAN circumstances create them¬ 
selves; in various tones, coloring, 
and phase, they blend until the uni- 
versal groundwork or actuality is only 
a repetition of the minor parts. The 
relation of cause with effect, the 
likeness of human passions, the correspondence of 
human interests, all compare equally, and assert 
that man is liable to be controlled by the same prin¬ 
ciples ; and whether he loses or gains, he will still 
be influenced by the power of thinking. Dates, 
periods, and epochs alter, but principles never. 


62 JSTitre jewels at the <5g)i;iimt. 


Truth is as immortal as God, and when applied to 
things, is as immutable. 

In one essential point, throughout all ages, na¬ 
tions, and places of the world, however different in 
character, inclination, and manner, men are united— 
the inherent recognition of, and adoration for, a 
Supreme Power, and they have devised external 
manner to demonstrate their faith, and declared 
openly their dependence upon it. 

Religious sentiment, enthusiastically followed, has 
originated some of the greatest designs in every art 
that science ever knew; has dictated the most 
severe virtue, and fulfilled the most holy obligations 
of filial piety, records of which may be had from the 
infancy of the world to the present day, this century 
repeating the principle that the first declared. 

To the heathen as well as to the Jew and Gen¬ 
tile, this manifestation is alike given, and we cannot 
more forcibly illustrate its practical application than 
in a recital of the life and character of the beautiful 
Scripture heroine Ruth. 

This young woman of Moab was reared amid all 
the comforts that wealth can secure. She was ten- 



Ipllie JpEopaz—JSfcutb. 


63 


derly and delicately nurtured; was accustomed to 
wear scarlet and purple, which could not be obtained 
except at great expense, and the fact of a person’s 
wearing these colors was a proof of high position 
and title to great riches. She was of an idolatrous 
race and nation, and zealously observed all the 
feasts that her religion required. These feasts were 
numerous. 

The most particular one was Eleusis, or “The 
Mysteries,” into which parents were particularly 
careful to initiate their children at an early age, 
because the ceremony made a compact which 
secured the protection of the goddess to whose ser¬ 
vices they dedicated themselves, and was the means 
of a more perfect and happier life in the future. 

We may very readily suppose that it was at this 
feast that Mahlon, the Hebrew stranger lately come 
to Moab, for the first time saw Kuth, and we may 
naturally draw the picture of their meeting. 

Upon the evening of the fourth day during the 
feast, the Procession of the Basket took place. An 
immense basket, elegantly designed and decorated, 
was laid upon an open chariot, and, slowly drawn by 



64 JtevtzU xxf th$ 


oxen, was followed by numbers of women, all of 
whom carried mysterious baskets in their hands, 
filled with articles that they took great pains to 
conceal. 

As Malilon stood under an arcn, or in an em¬ 
brasure, curiously observing this ceremony of the 
idolaters, his attention became suddenly riveted 
upon Ruth, who, in her anxiety to conceal the con¬ 
tents of her basket, paused a moment behind the 
others to arrange the elegant covering of embroi¬ 
dered silk over her mysteries; her hands, like two 
sensitive lilies, were cunningly and dexterously fas¬ 
tening the top. 

Her hair, which was of shiny black, luxuriant and 
soft, was waved freely back from a broad, pure 
brow. Her eyes, of liquid black touched by 
diamond glints, were raised as if by some potent 
mysterious agency, and caught for one moment the 
gaze of Mahlon. The telegram of love instituted 
the initiatory of the union of two races which was 
finally to create the house of David, the beloved of 
the Lord. 

Elimelech, a man of distinction, rich and influen- 



Jplhe Jplapaz—JO^uth. 


65 


tial, was a Jew of the tribe of Judah. He lived, 
honored* and respected, with Naomi, his wife, and 
two sons, Chilion and Mahlon, until he was past 
middle life, in Bethlehem-Judah, or Ephratah, 
which was his native place. In consequence of a 
famine which devastated the land, he removed his 
family to Moab, where both of his sons married 
Moabitish women, Euth and Orpah. Such unions 
were contrary to the given law of the Lord. 

In the case of Euth, her devotion to Mahlon, her 
husband, overcame every prejudice; the God that 
he worshipped became her God, and whatever con¬ 
stituted his happiness created her joy and satisfac¬ 
tion. What he desired she desired, and she was 
converted from idolatrous worship to the Hebrew 
religion. She was devoted to her husband; loved 
him with all the earnestness ©f a first genuine affec¬ 
tion, and with all the strength that a character so 
tender, yet so strong as Euth’s, was capable of. In 
the poetic version of Scripture phraseology she 
proved that “ She will do him good and not evil all 
the days of her life,” and that “ A good wife is from 
the Lord.” 



66 ‘Jg{iV$ Jtewsis xxf thz 


After a few years of joyous wedded life, Mahlon 
died and also Chilion. Elimelech, too, was dead. 
When Mahlon lay upon his deathbed he charged 
Ruth not to forsake her adopted religion, but after 
he was buried, to cleave to it still through every 
chance and change. 

Great was the sorrow of the lovely young widow, 
when she was left by her best beloved to tread the 
path of life alone; it is not surprising that she 
should cling to her who was her Mahlon’s mother; 
and though the riches of Elimelech, with which he 
came full-handed, were all exhausted, and the three 
widows, Naomi, the mother-in-law, and her two 
daughters-in-law, Orpah and Ruth, were very poor, 
and were barely supplied with necessary comforts, 
yet they would not separate, but with tenacious 
constancy remained under the same roof, each con¬ 
tributing her small share of earnings to fill the 
meagre exchequer’s daily demand, thus fulfilling the 
law of affection to its strictest letter. 

The hour of adversity brought out the genuine 
goodness, portrayed each characteristic, and devel¬ 
oped the strongest points in the disposition of 



J^thx) —JSfcutb. 


67 


Ruth. Her own relations were wealthy and ex¬ 
tended the most earnest solicitations for her to 
come and share with them their comfortable home 
and appointments, but the faithful heart looked 
through the dim obscurity of the grave up to 
heaven, where was her beloved, who held her reg¬ 
istered vow. She refused every invitation and 
abode with Naomi; and with her own delicate 
hands performed chief part of the menial duties. 

Orpah, seeing the example of Ruth, emulated her, 
but when poverty pinched her sorely she had secret 
longings for the ease which competence insures, and 
which was within her reach, and when Naomi urged 
her to leave her she was scarcely strong enough to 
resist the temptation; but she really loved Naomi, 
and would have been willing to stay with her for¬ 
ever if such a course had not involved her personal 
comfort. To make self-sacrifice was not her pre¬ 
vailing quality, but a love of ease was. 

Things became worse and worse in the little 
household; it was hard to live, and Naomi became 
greatly depressed, and determined to return to her 
early home if it were but to die and to have a place 



68 $ xxf th$ 


to be buried in; she longed to be where she could 
enjoy her religious rites and ceremonies, and be¬ 
lieved that by retracing her way back from her 
weary stay in a foreign land, the God of her fore¬ 
fathers would approve the act, for she had violated, 
through her husband’s will, the law which forbids a 
chosen one to go, of his own will and inclination, to 
dwell with the heathen. This act of disobedience 
she firmly believed had brought ill consequences: 
her present forlorn condition. 

She and Euth and Orpah set out on foot; a “ far 
journey,” as it was then called, owing to imperfect 
navigation and slow .modes of land-travel. The 
flowers were in full bloom, the grape-blossoms 
scented the air, the birds sang their thanksgiving 
hymns, and even the little fishes that swam hither 
and thither in the brooks that they passed seemed 
to rejoice, and to appeal to them to look up to the 
great source of all love for a renewal of their hap¬ 
piness. After they had travelled a few miles 
Naomi’s spirit became depressed, her steps faltered, 
and she seemed to realize the hardships which 
they should have to encounter before they could 



Jpthx) RKapaz—Jg^utb. 


69 


reach the end of their toilsome journey, and her 
kind heart refused to involve in this trouble her two 
daughters. 

She threw herself down on the green sward, her 
garments trailed among the sweet wild anemones, 
and her brow pressed the rich tufts of lobelia, while 
her hands tremulously clasped Ruth’s and Orpah’s; 
her voice rose above the murmur of the brook that 
ran close beside the pathway, as she in earnest 
tones begged her daughters-in-law to return to their 
friends: to leave her to pursue her way alone; if 
she perished, it would be only an old woman, with¬ 
out any relative to mourn her, who died; but that 
they were young, with many years before them, with 
numerous friends whose hearts would be gladdened 
by their society. 

In her breast mingled emotions contended for 
mastery. To part with them, Ruth especially, was 
as terrible as death. It was a dreadful thought to 
be left alone at her time of life ; vety sweet to realize 
that a tender solicitude was felt for her, and to re¬ 
tain this blessing was of course the first wish of her 
heart; but her generous mind craved their liappi- 



70 jewels of the (Orient. 


ness, and she feared that they would realize the 
reverse if they stayed by her. 

Suddenly she raised her eyes to theirs and 
impressively pointed out to them, in eloquent 
words, the advantage to be gained by a return 
home, and the privations and discomfort which 
would follow them if they remained with her. 
She endeavored to persuade them to pursue the first 
course. Ruth twined her arms around Naomi and 
uttered the most eloquent chapter of love that has 
ever been spoken, in these words : “ Entreat me not 
to leave thee or to return from following thee. 
Whither thou goest I will go; and where thou lodg- 
est I will lodge. Thy people shall be my people, 
and thy God my God. Where thou diest I will die, 
and there will I be buried. The Lord do so to me 
and more also, if aught but death part thee and 
me!” 

No studied oration could have expressed more 
undying, changeless, self-forgetting devotion than 
these simple words. Naomi’s heart bowed in admi¬ 
ration for so sublime a manifestation. 

Orpah loved Naomi and kissed her repeatedly, 



Jplhe Jplopaj:—Jlfcuth. 


7 1 

and was anxious to manifest her love, but her fond¬ 
ness for self-indulgence and dread of the prospect 
of poverty in a strange land prevailed, and, with 
many tears, though with some secret relief, she bade 
adieu to her two companions and retraced her steps. 

Naomi no longer opposed Buth’s determination; 
it would have been an insult to human affection; 
but she rose from the ground upon which she had 
thrown herself, renewed and strengthened to resume 
her journey. Buth sang as they walked, and when¬ 
ever they stopped to rest brought wreaths of wild 
flowers and playfully twined them around Naomi’s 
waist and wrists, endeavoring by every little art to 
wile her thoughts from the difficulties of their route. 

At last, tired, dusty, travel-stained, and hungry, 
they entered the gates of Bethlehem. It is due to 
the people of the times to say that the warm sympa¬ 
thy shown to Naomi on her arrival proved them to 
be unselfish enough to spare both feeling and time 
for their returned countrywoman, and to grieve with 
her at those heavy afflictions which caused her to 
reply to their eager questions, “Call me not Naomi, 
the pleasant, the sweet, but Mara, the bitter, for the 



7 2 jfettfffls xxf tbs 


Almighty hath dealt very bitterly with me. I went 
out full and the Lord hath brought me home again 
empty. Why, then, call ye me Naomi, seeing that 
the Lord hath testified against me, and the Almighty 
hath afflicted me.” 

The poetical interpretation of the name Naomi is 
pleasantness, sweetness, grace. Bitterness and sad¬ 
ness were now more applicable to her, and she 
plaintively reminded her friends of the fact. She 
did not mean to complain, but to prevent them from 
recurring to the past, which afforded such contrast 
with her present condition. Her friends would have 
heaped favors upon her and the gentle Ruth, who 
modestly remained silent and retiring, but Naomi 
could not bear to become an object of pity, and so 
with their small means they secured a very humble 
dwelling in the suburbs, and she and Ruth com¬ 
menced their frugal life in Naomi’s native city. 

Curiosity dictated no idle inquiries about Ruth; 
the Israelites were too well versed in politeness to 
stare or to ask questions ; but many a furtive glance 
was given, and whispered expressions of admiration 
were made at her exceeding loveliness. She was 



jpibs Iptepaz—JBfctrtb. 


73 


divested of purple, and blue, and scarlet colors, the 
insignia of wealth and consequence, now, and was 
simply robed in pure white linen, with a hood of the 
same over her head, and half sandals upon her feet. 

When they arrived at Bethlehem it was the time 
of barley harvest. Naomi had a very wealthy rela¬ 
tion of the family of Elimelech, who, according to 
Jewish law, was bound to provide her with all the 
relief that she needed, but her unassuming disposi¬ 
tion led her to prefer for the present to remain in 
retirement, because the contrast in their respective 
positions was too great. She concealed from Ruth 
his existence. 

It was customary for the peasantry to be allowed 
to pick up the grain they might find which had been 
left upon the field, and so the sacred history tells us 
that “ Ruth went to glean in the fields, and that it 
was her hap to light on a part of the field belonging 
to Boaz.” If Ruth had known of . this connection 
she would have hesitated to work at this place, but 
as she was ignorant of it, of course she was rejoiced 
to be so near home, and was glad to find Boaz so 

conciliatory to her , who was a stranger, and had no 
4 



74 jewels ul tbe 


right to presume upon the privilege of the Jewish 
women. 

Boaz observed her modest deportment, and also 
her elastic figure, which was the very embodiment 
of grace and beauty, as she industriously performed 
her tasks, and he told her that it was not necessary 
for her to go into any field but his, and to stay by 
his maidens. He told her also to keep close after 
the reapers, for that she should not be insulted or 
ill-treated. 

How grateful this act of appreciation must have 
been to the sensitive young widow no one can 
realize but she who has also been a stranger in a * 
strange place, performing offices which threw her 
under a light totally different from that of her usual 
sphere, and which subjected her in a measure to 
coarse treatment. With the sweet candor and gen¬ 
tle humility of her nature, she, knowing that from 
her present position she would not seem to be 
entitled to such consideration, inquired of Boaz: 
“Why have I found grace in thy eyes that thou 
shouldst take this knowledge of me, seeing I am a 
stranger ?” 



Jptfre Hlxrpaz—JHfcuth. 75 


Honest praise is very gratifying, and has often 
given an impetus to a heart for a renewal of effort, 
which had nearly sunk under misappreciation. The 
meed of well-earned approbation which the answer 
of Boaz conveyed, was joyfully received by Ruth; 
her mind delighted to find that she, through virtu¬ 
ous conduct, had secured a friend, possibly, for her¬ 
self, and her countenance lighted up by the reflec¬ 
tion of these pleasant thoughts. Boaz, taking the 
covering from his head, bent respectfully forward, 
and, looking upon her sweet downcast eyes, said 
with serious impressiveness : “ It hath been fully 
shown me all that thou hast done unto thy mother- 
in-law since the death of tliine husband; how thou 
hast left father and mother, and the land of thy 
nativity, and art come unto a people which thou 
knewest not heretofore. The Lord recompense thy 
work, and a full reward be given thee of the Lord 
God of Israel, under whose wings thou art come to 
trust.” 

There -was such unmistakable respect, and tender 
interest besides, intimated by his manner, that 
Ruth’s heart trembled with satisfaction, tears sprang 



76 ixi thb <H 


to her eyes, and so much sensibility manifested itself 
in her voice as she answered, “Let me still find 
favor in thy sight, for thou hast spoken friendly to 
thy hand-maid, though I be not like one of thine 
own hand-maidens,” that Boaz was betrayed into an 
emotion of tenderness which he could not suppress. 

He turned suddenly away, lest he should betray 
the peculiar interest that he felt toward the strange 
serving-woman, which would make him seem to his 
dependants to be taking undue familiarity. But at 
dinner he seated her near to himself, and waited 
upon her, for it is said that he handed her the 
parched corn. A. beautiful picture the fair-skinned 
Moabitess seated among her olive-skinned com¬ 
panions must have presented; a most novel and 
pleasing sight, indeed; so delicate, with the evident 
and unmistakable signs of high birth and breeding 
depicted in the countenance, in the hand; her 
peculiar distinction from her companions by the 
manner of handling her spoon; the attention be¬ 
stowed upon her by her landlord, all set forth a 
contrast which was unmistakably interesting. 

There was a distinguishing refinement about her 



Jplfre Jplapaz—Jjfcuth. 


77 


which, made her the especial figure in the scene, 
and the young men all held her in the most virtuous 
esteem ; they had perceived that she was entitled to 
their profoundest respect. 

Boaz urged his hospitality, and was pleased to 
see her partake with a good appetite of the viands 
set before her ; and when she had concluded her 
dinner he followed the young men, or reapers, and 
ordered them to drop some of the sheaves so that 
she might have a plenty to take home with her. 
This was a favor which the reapers most willingly 
accorded, for each one was impressed with the 
superiority of the beautiful stranger. Ruth was 
industrious, and gathered enough to make an ephah 
of barley. 

Naomi had felt some anxiety about this now 
doubly-dear child of her adoption, and often, as the 
sun got low, she had gone to the door to look if she 
was coming. When at last Ruth came into the 
doorway, her face lighted up with the pleasant news 
she had to impart, Naomi’s affectionate heart was 
stirred with joy; she herself brought cool water and 
refreshed Ruth with it, then made haste to bring 



7& ^ 18 {iue jewels xif the <§)»iewt. 


some choice dish of food which she had saved for 
her, affectionately asking questions of her, whilst 
Ruth ingenuously described the marked respect she 
had received from Boaz. 

Naomi w r as astonished when she heard the name 
of Boaz, and she ascribed it to no mere chance that 
Ruth had been guided to him. She was constrained 
to give expression to her gratification, and she cried, 
“Blessed be the Lord who hath not left off his 
kindness to the living and the dead.” She imparted 
to Ruth their near relationship to Boaz, and com¬ 
mended her for her observance of all he had told 
her; and so, on the morrow, Ruth repaired again to 
the same field, where she met with fresh kindness. 

It was not a mere speculation, or love of match¬ 
making, which induced Naomi to set about schem¬ 
ing for a union between Ruth and Boaz, but the 
tender, devoted love of a mother, who,.knowing well 
the excellence of Boaz, was anxious to secure the 
happiness to her daughter which her marriage to 
him might secure. 

The warmth of her heart centred on this 
daughter, who had by every act manifested for her- 





79 


self the most undeviating devotion. It is well said 
that a dutiful daughter always makes the most per¬ 
fect wife; this Naomi had seen proven, for as a wife 
to her son, Ruth had fulfilled the most strict mi¬ 
nutiae of duty and devotion, had made his heart 
glad throughout the whole ten years of their mar¬ 
ried lives. 

Naomi, understanding what the Jewish law was, 
determined to use those means which, under God’s 
especial providence, might result in so much benefit 
to all. Naomi trusted in God. Through every vicis¬ 
situde of ill luck or prosperity, she had never ceased 
to supplicate and to praise; and she had laid up a 
store of peace and joy, through this means, for her 
old age ; her mind was placid, and rested content 
with the assurance of God’s everlasting protection. 

Pious beauties mellowed by time assume a fervid 
lustre. Patient endurances had shed a calm, 
steady light throughout Naomi’s soul, which no cir¬ 
cumstance of misfortune or poverty could obscure. 
But she deemed it her duty to embrace the means 
presented for the benefit and comfort of her 
daughter, who was so deserving and who was yet so 




8 o xxf tbs 


young; and she gave instructions to Kuth which at 
first seemed very revolting to the Moabitess, for 
there was no such rule among her own people; her 
modesty and strict sense of propriety were shocked; 
but as she had known Naomi for so long, as kind as 
her own mother, and had perfect faith in her pru¬ 
dence, she consented to abide by whatever she 
might tell her, and she simply answered : “ All that 
thou sayest unto me that will I do.” 

It was 4he custom of the Jews when a marriage 
was contemplated between near relatives, or with 
the widow of a deceased relative, for the female to 
steal in the night-time to the feet of the man and 
lay herself down, drawing the coverlid over her; 
this was a significant sign for him to extend the 
mantle of protection, or was an opportunity for her 
to ask, “ Give me thy protection as a husband.” 

Judging men by common rules, we conclude that 
it is no mean proof of chivalry for a man to exer¬ 
cise his discretion so far as to show no immodest 
or indecorous behavior towards a beautiful woman 
who lies at his feet. To insure confidence is to give 
confidence, and the mere act of a woman’s passively 



Jpllte Jplixpaz— 


81 


submitting herself to the peculiar situation may 
possibly arouse the man’s most beautiful sentiment 
of honor and generosity. 

“ In the midst of the night,” as Naomi instructed 
Euth to do, she repaired to the sleeping apartment 
of Boaz, with what trepidation any modest mind 
may conceive, and laid herself down at his feet. 

Her beautiful figure palpitated with contending 
emotions; the soft moonlight streaming in and fall¬ 
ing on her face, exposed its paleness. She lay 
trembling like an aspen-leaf controlled by the 
breeze, until Boaz, awaking in alarm, perceived 
who she was, knew that she was acting in exact 
accordance with the law, and reproved her not, but 
spoke encouragingly and pleasantly to her, which so 
reassured Euth that she* talked freely to him of 
some facts in her life and history. 

The heart of Boaz was in his hand, and willingly 
enough he drew his mantle or covering over his 
beautiful charge and assured her of his willingness 
to become her husband, and the high honor he felt 
she would be conferring upon him. But there was 

one shadow which clouded the atmosphere of his 

4 * 



82 Jg {ftrs xxf ibt) 


anticipations, the fact that there was a nearer rela¬ 
tive, still, than himself, who, according to Jewish 
law, had a stronger claim to her than he had. 

Buth’s heart was still with her dead Mahlon, and 
she cherished his memory most tenderly; but she 
was discreet as well as affectionate, and she judged 
that to do what her mother-in-law advised was a 
proper rule to go by, and she assumed no prudery 
nor affected any sentimentalism which might reflect 
pain or ill consequences to one so dear. She had 
had opportunity of observing the high tone of dis¬ 
position and conduct of Boaz, and his present gen¬ 
erous behavior toward herself was not without its 
softening tendency. 

Boaz pledged his word to marry Buth if the other 
kinsman did not enforce his claim, and took tender 
care of her till the morning, when, careful for 
her reputation, he awakened her before it was light 
enough to distinguish one person from another, and, 
after having filled her veil with barley, showed 
her the secret way out. Naomi nervously awaited 
the result of the interview, anxious for Boaz to be 
the bridegroom instead of the other kinsman. 



Jplhs Jplxx|xa^— 


83 


The gate of the city was the place for the trans¬ 
action of all magisterial business. People of every 
class and grade were accustomed to assemble there, 
and when one wished to inquire for or to find 
another, the gate was the safest chance wherein to 
look. Boaz found this other relative of Naomi’s 
there, and made known to him the business of 
Naomi and Ruth. 

This relative, owing to some nice technicality, 
could not properly become the husband of Ruth, 
but he bought Naomi’s claim to a field of ground 
and transferred his right of husband to Boaz. 

With joy irradiating his countenance, his heart 
beating in time to his happy thoughts, Boaz repaired 
to Naomi’s house, related the result of his interview 
with the kinsman, and handed over to her her just 
inheritance, the money for her land. Naomi kissed 
him, fell upon his neck and wept for very joy. 

Sweet must have been this realization of her fond 
hopes for the success and prosperity of her beloved 
Ruth, and she praised the Lord that he had done 
her so much good now that the hairs of her head 
were all white and her life was in its sear leaf. 



84 JRitrs jfewsls xxf th$ dDqisttt. 


She feelingly related to her cousin liow faithfully 
Ruth had acted toward her. She described the 
various evidences of her noble, virtuous, and con¬ 
stant nature, displayed in the different relations of 
life and departments of social obligation. First she 
spoke of her, a } 7 oung girl of heathenish religion, 
her chaste regard of outward proprieties; she told 
him that though Ruth’s parents would have in¬ 
dulged any extravagant whim, yet she never pre¬ 
sumed upon their generosity to extort extra jewels 
or articles of dress; that she ran into no excesses 
which some of the ceremonies belonging to their 
feasts justified. 

She then descanted upon her virtues as a wife ; 
how she had, immediately on her marriage to 
Mahlon, embraced his religion; for his sake had 
stood the scorn of her teachers; had made his faith 
her faith, its practices her pleasure, and thus 
secured a double bond between them In all of her 
wifely duties she had displayed the most cheerful 
acquiescence, the keenest discrimination, and the 
most ingenious economy. 

Naomi told Boaz all this and more of the perfec- 



Iplhe JjEapaz—^irfcft. 


85 


tions of Ruth. She descanted upon her conduct 
under adversity when affliction and poverty assailed 
Malilon, when all the manifold tribulations of re¬ 
verses -were heaped upon his head. When every 
vestige of property was swept off, and day by day 
they became poorer, Ruth never uttered a word of 
complaint or repined at the personal discomfort to 
which she was subjected, but was ever cheerful, and 
gave to the meagre aspect of their humbled home a 
general glory by her consistent good-temper and 
easy adaptation of herself to the circumstance of 
the hour and her ready expediency in averting an¬ 
noyances. 

When Malilon’s anxiety for an heir increased, she 
with patient sweetness reminded him, from his own 
scriptural history, of Sara, who had a child in her 
old age, playfully suggesting that when they became 
wiser God would give them children. Naomi said 
she knew that Ruth’s barrenness had been a source 
of private mortification to her, but that she had 
never sought to cast the fault upon her husband, or 
complained of injustice from God. 

Naomi told Boaz of the untiring fidelity of Ruth 



86 JSftvs Jr^idl s xxf th *3 


to her husband during his long illness; of the 
sacred reverence with which she bowed her head to 
Almighty God under the terrible dispensation of his 
death, and of her inimitable devotion and beautiful 
deportment to herself since she was made a widow; 
and declared that Ruth fulfilled to the letter 
another proverb : “ The heart of her husband doth 
safely trust in her so that he shall have no need of 
spoil.” 

The heart of Boaz swelled with delightful emo¬ 
tions at this description of Ruth’s perfections, and 
his fine face, beautiful in shape and feature, glowed 
with the reflection of genuine appreciation. Love 
controlled him, and the god painted his image in his 
eyes when, at the close of Naomi’s speech, Ruth, 
unexpectedly appearing, beheld him. 

Bashful still and timid, she sensitively shrunk 
back, as a rose beneath the full glare of' the sun, 
made a reverence, and was about to retire, when 
Naomi called to her and said, “ Nay, my daughter, 
thou needest not be shamefaced, but come forward 
and receive the hand of him who is to be thy hus¬ 
band and Ruth, with the simplicity of perfect 





87 


obedience which she always accorded to her mother- 
in-law, did as she was requested, gracefully came 
forward and stood before Boaz. He extended his 
hand, drew her toward him, kissed her; took a 
ring and placed it upon her finger, and bestowed 
many kind and affectionate assurances of his devo¬ 
tion and intentions for the future. 

Of course she went no more into the fields, but 
commenced to get ready for the celebration of her 
nuptials. 

Do not let our readers suppose that Ruth had 
forgot Mahlon. She could not forget what had 
come into the soft, tender, springtime of her life; 
his memory was indelibly printed on the walls of 
her heart, and no other or more recent impression 
could ever obliterate it; but as over old and great 
pictures are sometimes laid fresh coats, so Ruth 
took into her affections a second love, through 
which the lines of the first might again be ex¬ 
pressed. 

It is so especially woman’s nature to love, that 
Ruth experienced the want which her husband’s 
death had created; the void was there, and to wish 



88 Jfewsis xrf tbs 


to fill it, with as perfect representation of its first 
object as was possible, was natural; she shrunk 
from a lonely path, felt the necessity of a strong 
arm to lean on in her weakness; and when she 
realized that she was the subject of a man’s love, 
whom she knew to be superior in imparting 
strength, consolation, and changeless sympathy; a 
friend who would not forsake her, never leave her 
lonely, but who would diffuse pleasure and comfort 
over her path, and that through her happiness 
Naomi would also be blessed, she not only accepted 
Boaz cheerfully, but joyfully. 

She could not forget the sensation which his first 
words occasioned her, when her tender feet were 
wounded by the stubble of the fields, her delicate 
hands were burning beneath their unusual occupa¬ 
tions, her pure brow scorched by the rays of the 
sun, her eyes brimming with tears, her lips quiver¬ 
ing with pent-up anxiety, and her heart sorely 
oppressed with a sense of her dependence and utter 
loneliness (for she was a stranger among the hand¬ 
maidens, who were of different kind)—she could not 
forget how kindly he then spoke and attended to 



Iplbe Jptopaz—Jlpith:. 


89 


her wants. Words are great things when spoken 
under some circumstances, and 

There’s never a word that has been told 
Which, spoken through a spirit cold 
Or warm, has ever yet been lost. 

It either sighs and tears has cost, 

Smiles and pleasant fancies brought, 

Or lessons of great love has taught. 

A word! why ’tis as mighty as a fire 
Of great proportion; in its ire 
Burning out all the gladdest things 
That rich enthusiasm brings, 

Heaping ashes where ambition grew, 

Where hope was—leaving grief—in lieu. 

A word has crushed the tender bloom 
Of love; has hastened to a doom 
Obscure sweet aspiration, and 
In stifling every keen demand 
For human sympathy, has laid 
Ground for misanthropy instead. 

Again, a single word reversed 
Has copious streams afresh coerced, 

Toward all that fills the widest scope 
Of joy, philanthropy, and hope; 



90 }S\itre jewels of the defeat. 


Has turned a widow’s drooping weed 
To consolation’s richest meed; 

Has crushed to atoms grim despair 
And from the ruins built things rare; 

Has scattered to the winds mistrust, 

And wove a fabric of stanch trust; 

Has harmonized, and humanized, and fed 
A soul, till up to heaven ’twas led. 

Words were of consequence to Ruth, for they 
gave her flagging spirit a new impetus, and opened 
a volume of bright thoughts where before had 
merely existed the shut book of endurance. Kind 
words came like dew to the parched flower,'the sun 
to the frozen rill, the mother’s breast to the babe, 
and food to the hungry. 

Never before had she looked more lovely than 
now. Exercise in the open air had created a rosy 
bloom in her cheek, and her mouth, so purely the 
index of her feelings, reflected sw'eet content. Her 
eyes sparkled with unusual brilliancy, and her 
beautifully-shaped throat seemed raised with a new 
dignity. 

Boaz proclaimed to the people, and all the 





9i 


elders, the fact of his purchase of Naomi’s land and 
of his betrothal to Euth. He received the con¬ 
gratulations of all, and the elders and the people 
bore witness joyfully, and prayed that the Lord 
would make the woman whom he had chosen like 
Eachel and Leah, who had built up the house of 
Israel, and that he himself might “ do worthily in 
Ephratah and be famous in Bethlehem.” After the 
allotted season of waiting, Boaz and Euth were 
married. 

It was in the season when the fruit hung mellow 
with ripeness, luscious with the juices of perfect¬ 
ness ; when the birds fledged in the spring were now 
matrons themselves; the lambkins that sported 
were nearly full grown; and the season itself felt 
that it had served its time, had fulfilled its part, and 
was ready to lay by its rich mantle of crimson and 
gold, and retire. 

On one morning, cloudless and balmy, during the 
autumn, their nuptials were solemnized, and the bride 
fulfilled another proverb : “ Strength and honor are 
her clothing, and she shall rejoice in time to come.” 

There was much feasting and rejoicing attending 



92 J§{itne Jtewsis txf <3§>^isrrt. 


the occasion. The beautiful, serene, meek-eyed 
Ruth was the delight of all eyes, and especially was 
she the joy and satisfaction of Naomi’s heart, which 
had seen of Ruth’s perfections of character, and 
rejoiced in her deserved reward. 

Peace and plenty were again their portion, for 
Boaz was “A man who was mighty and rich.” 
Naomi had apartments in his household, which 
Ruth delighted to adorn, and many a day of calm 
reflection had Naomi. She often sat at decline of 
day and watched the sunset gild the fields with its 
last lingering glance, blessing the world even as it 
went out; and we may liken Naomi’s silver tresses 
scattered over the aged brow to snow upon an old- 
time open page; her dim eyes to windows between 
two worlds with veils spread upon them. Her bent 
figure was the living monument of human decay; 
her hands, still busied in some needlework, tran¬ 
scripts of the everlasting principle of will; and she 
seemed, her very self, to resemble the waning sun¬ 
light; for with her influence of perfect love and 
goodness she illuminated and glorified all around as 
she declined toward the tomb. 



Jplhs Jptopas— 


93 


No studied phraseology can ever measure the 
estimate of true virtue; it is its own definition, and 
shapes its own destinies. Good works are followed 
by great ends, and noble action is rooted where 
time, nor rust, nor tempest can ever unsettle it. 

The lessons that Euth had learned in her hours 
of misfortune and poverty were the groundwork of 
deeds of charity, patient forbearance, and love, 
which her munificent means now enabled her to 
effect. Her life she determined to make a practical 
fulfillment of these obligations, applied as well to 
the most trivial as to the greatest opportunities. 

She ordered her household well, and pursued 
with her own hands many domestic avocations, and 
verified still another problem : “ She looketh well to 
the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread 
of idleness.” 

Throughout Naomi’s adversity Euth had clung to 
her; now Naomi clung to Euth, and she was sought 
after, admired, and emulated by her husband’s rela¬ 
tions. Boaz was a fond and devoted husband, and 
refused nothing to Euth and Naomi. 

At last the beautiful dream was realized; the 



94 jewels of the deviant. 


secret sweet wish, of all true women’s and. true 
wives’ minds was realized to Ruth; she had con¬ 
ceived; the beautiful development in her nature 
was revealed; the germ which is so sacredly 
wrapped in woman’s organism was set to pulse, for 
she felt the sweet joy that the babe was leaping in 
her womb. Motherhood! ’tis the baptism of God, 
the consecration of angels, and the culmination of 
every perfect desire. 

When the full time for her delivery was come, 
and Naomi and Boaz anxiously awaited the result, 
from the crisis the most joyful of sounds, an infant’s 
first manifestation of intelligent existence, a feeble 
wail was heard, and a “ man-child,” it was told by 
the attendants to Boaz, had been born. Ruth 
thrived; the infant was called Obed, and became 
grandfather to David. 

Naomi took the child to her bosom, constituted 
herself its nurse, and thus relieved Ruth of the 
anxieties incidental to having strange nurses. 
Every mother will appreciate this great favor, of 
having her first child especially cared for by as 
loving and more experienced hands than her own, 



jpEbe Jplffpaz— 


95 


herself relieved of all anxiety during the perilous 
four weeks subsequent to parturition. A young 
mother is blest who has such a friend as Naomi to 
relieve her of the charge, one whom she can so 
freely trust to foster in her own bosom the young 
fibre of a new existence, the “ baby,” the mother’s 
first-born. 

How touching! how sublime! the whole history 
of Ruth and Naomi is throughout. The fact of the 
women of Israel coming to congratulate Naomi on 
the birth of her grandchild, and making her especial 
joy the common interest of all, rejoicing that 
“Naomi had a grandson;” the incident of their 
bringing evergreen to plant upon her brow, the 
symbol of the springing of a live branch from the 
old stock, was touching, and all joined in the chant: 
“ Blessed be the Lord who hath not left thee this 
day without a kinsman, that his name may be famous 
in Israel, and he shall be unto thee a restorer of 
life and a nourisher of thine old age, for thy 
daughter-in-law, who loveth thee and who is better to 
thee than seven sons , hath borne him.” 

In the character of Ruth every woman of this day 



96 Jg\itnes xxf the 


may find volumes of excellence which they may do 
well to copy. Virtue has double and triple mean¬ 
ings, is full, running over, and exhaustless; is a 
garment which may be fitted to all who will try to 
wear it. Perfection is attainable, or Christ Jesus 
would not have exhorted his disciples and audiences 
to secure it. Constancy is like the sweet odors 
pressed from scented flowers, and when applied like 
Ruth’s, is the incense that Heaven approves. 

Industry will not only reap barley-grains, but will 
garner results in the storehouse of immortality. 

Love sanctifies, exalts, and completes a woman’s 
character, whether it is spread as a mantle of charity 
for general good or is fixed in its most subtle refine¬ 
ment upon a worthy husband; and when, like 
Ruth’s, it is coupled with self-sacrifice, endurance, 
and piety, will be a crown of glory, the highest gift 
that can deck a man’s life. 

Marriage, when a true union of souls, is the per¬ 
fect fulfillment of the law of unison in nature which 
sympathetic qualities must fulfill. 

Perfect fitness makes perfect concord, which is the 
culmination of the divinest attributes in either sex, 



JpUhs JpMxxjta#— 


97 


and must create a condition of happiness which is 
desirable, sacred, good, and superior in delight to 
all other blisses. 

Ruth stood among the women of her day 
As one star in the milky way, 

Prominent from a thousand others 
Of maids and daughters, wives and mothers. 

As a maiden, she became her lot, 

And graced her age; she ne’er forgot 
That violets bloom the sweetest where 
The modest shade shuts off the glare. 

As daughter, she was satisfied to bend 
Her will unto her mother’s, nor pretend 
To rule; she knew that when an angel stoops, 

It is to bless the head that droops. 

As sister, she combined the graces 
Of true virtue, and as sunshine chases 
Mist away, her genial temper chased 
Discord; and pleasure in its stead placed. 

As wipe, all that the daughter promised 
She fulfilled, and none the fact resist; 

The wisest daughter makes the truest wife, 

Crowns man with his best gift in life. 



98 


jewels of the <Dnie».t. 


As mother, the angels came and stood 
About her—helped to every good. 

And happy the son must be, in truth, 
Whose mother patterns after Ruth. 














































»■- 








f • > 








» : ± < 



























• • 



























I 

* 
















































- ■** ' 





















































































* 















' 























N 





<■ 



Mm 


RE KING AHASUERUS 



























































































































































































































































































































































































III. 


©iamorwL 

ESTHER. 

JHE Persians, a people of the acutest 
susceptibilities, impressional, impas¬ 
sioned, and enthusiastic, contemplated the 
beautiful through an exaggerative lens, 
caught from the poetical every available 
ray of loveliness or shadow of romance, 
and adorned their secular occupations with ideality 
and imagery. 

The beautiful was suggested and applied in their 
peculiar symbolical manner to proper names, espe¬ 
cially of females, and the name of Esther had the 
splendid significance of a beacon—a halo—a glory 



io2 JgTiue jewels uf the (intent. 


—something which was superlative in goodness and 
grandeur, and its definite meaning was “ A Star.” 

Astrologists existed amongst them, and, in the 
days of Artaxerxes, were famous for determining the 
destiny of men and women by the signs of the zodiac 
and the stars that governed their nativity. Through 
this mystical prophecy it is supposable that the fate 
of the Jewish maiden Hadassah was described. 

Astrologers, at her birth, foretold to the anxious 
parents that their babe was born for high honors; 
that she should wear a diadem, and share the royal 
sceptre; that she would shine among the constella¬ 
tions of rank, a “ star” of the first magnitude, promi¬ 
nent through histories of civilized and barbaric 
ages. 

And when, years after, the significant appellative 
Esther was bestowed upon her by the Persians, it 
was but a continuation of the prophecy which was 
realized when she became the consort of Ahasuerus, 
the sharer of a throne. 

Hadassah, a daughter of Israel, was a descendant 
of Benjamin, of the house of Kish, the family of Saul, 
who was the first king of Israel. At a tender age 



JjMlhb 103 

she was left an orphan, and was adopted by Mor- 
decai, a Jew of the tribe of Benjamin—one of the 
ten tribes—who faithfully adhered to the house of 
Judah. 

He delighted to bestow all that his riches and 
position could secure upon this tender bud that 
he had taken to the nursery of his love; she 
was reared in refinement, and also in the strictest 
observance of the rites- and ceremonies of the 
Jewish religion. She knew no God but the great 
Jehovah, the God of her forefathers. The rough 
winds of hardship never assailed her, her delicate 
hands were unused to a single menial service, for 
she, as well as Mordecai, were of noble race, and 
inherited great wealth. 

During her childhood, she was designated as 
“ the lovely ,” on account of her gentleness and the 
peculiarly amiable traits of character which she 
manifested, and it was a sight which a painter 
might have been proud to portray, when Mordecai, 
after being fatigued with the services of the taber¬ 
nacle, would bow his proud head to the shoulder 
of his little charge, and drink in rest through her 



io4 JUive jewels of the (Dijient. 


sweet and intelligent prattle. At these times they 
sat together on a divan, his great form contrasting 
with her tiny figure as her little hands clasped his 
head against her, she assuring him that it was not 
too heavy, but that it was a pleasure and delight to 
hold it there. 

The charm of her society grew with her growth 
and strengthened with her years. Throughout 
their subsequent captivity, which occurred in her 
early life, and through every vicissitude of trial or 
elation, she preserved the same cheerful obedience 
and willingness to serve him, and his devotion to 
her was very great. 

She passed the usual courses of education com¬ 
mon to Jewish maidens of rank, expanded from one 
perfection to another into the half-grown woman, 
amidst the most luxurious scenes that her high 
position imposed. 

Mordecai, a man in whom many- virtues were em¬ 
bodied, was of middle.age when first introduced in 
sacred history, of fine personal appearance, and 
exceedingly beautiful features. He seems to have 
had the contrasts of qualities which- are necessary 





to make up the sum of the most perfect man, gentle 
but firm, generous, and yielding to softness where 
his finer emotions were called out, yet unflinching 
in his sense of honor where duty demanded him to 
be stern ; humble and affectionate under justice, yet 
haughty almost to scornfulness where his dignity 
was insulted or his honesty impugned; loving, self- 
sacrificing, fastidious yet abstemious, passionate but 
temperate. An enthusiast to his religion, he recog¬ 
nized no heresy, and tolerated no heathen worship. 

He had been constant always in his attachments, 
and when he and his charge, the young Hadassah, 
became exiles, and their fortunes so materially 
changed that they had necessarily to live in a re¬ 
tired, economical manner, he became grateful to the 
country of his adoption which had sheltered him, 
and he preferred to remain in Persia even after 
many of his expatriated countrymen had returned 
to their native land. 

He received his own intuitions as prophecies, and 
whatever he conceived to be the will of God, deliv¬ 
ered in this way, he unhesitatingly obeyed. Believ¬ 
ing that the august eye of Omnipotence was 
5 * 



io6 "JS{ii;e jewels of the <5§>i;ieirt. 


reflected through his perceptions, he made every act 
and event of his life one of active piety. 

Purple and fine linen, beauty and luxury, had 
been the conditions of their lives when Mordecai 
and Hadassah came to live in Shushan, the City of 
the Lilies. In the mind of the naturally refined, 
contact with coarse objects, or the conditions in¬ 
duced by penury, must be and is disagreeable, and 
no one who is versed in physiology can dispute that 
externals do affect the interior or soul sense of the 
individual. To the delicately-nurtured Jew and 
Jewess, this reverse from affluence to penury must 
have brought the usual disagreeables, inconve¬ 
niences, and painful restrictions ; yet, like the lustre 
of a genuine diamond, which, though it may be 
covered with clay, still retains its brightness, their 
qualities of rare virtue existed amidst the obscurity 
of broken fortunes and conflicting opposites, and 
their lives were glorified by the performance of 
such deeds of goodness as their intrinsic merit 
dictated. 

At the age of twenty, Esther was a perfect model 
of physical proportions, complexion, graces, and 



JDiamxmxl—^Egstbar. 


107 


charms, with the unmistakable expression of sold 
nobility, of virtue in its every aspect portrayed in 
her speaking countenance. Beautiful expression is 
always indispensable in glorifying the human coun¬ 
tenance, and in this particular she was pre-eminent¬ 
ly gifted. 

Her figure, symmetrical yet somewhat voluptu¬ 
ous, was over medium height, her skin of that fair 
type of Jewish olive through which the blue vein is 
discernible; her eyes were pictures in which the 
emotions of her soul were fairly limned, changing 
to every shade and phase of feeling that impulse 
dictated. She was strangely beautiful. If we 
summed up all the graces of Venus and Juno, and 
planted them in her person, we should not be ex¬ 
travagant in our description. 

The most beautiful of her characteristics was her 
piety, observed in the minutest events of every-day 
life; she worshipped God and conformed to the 
rights of her faith, so that their actual practice 
seemed to be the involuntary or spontaneous fitting 
of the work to the natural principle, the outward 
evidence of the inward mind. Her religion was 



io8 ~Jg {itre Jfewsis xxf thb 


not a burden, but an embellishment, and was 
adapted as component with herself. 

The very God was the object of her worship, and 
her cousin Mordecai was to her the perfect man 
who represented the God-qualities in human form. 
To all devotional minds the object which most nobly 
sustains the principles of its religion, exalts, by a 
contemplation of it, the soul up to its Author. 

As all virtues exist in a truly pious Woman, we 
with consistency sum up Esther’s charms, graces, 
and qualities in that comprehensive term, “ a truly 
pious womanand we may suppose her, from the 
period in her history which we next introduce, sub¬ 
lime enough in her character to cope with the great 
events incidental to the second crisis of her life, 
her promotion from obscurity to notoriety; strong 
enough to bear the adulation of a thousand, and not 
become vain; to mix with the rival wives of a royal 
husband, and yet to be superior to the weakness of 
jealousy and envy; to be wise enough to withstand 
flattery, and to bear blame. 

We, in order to be clearly understood, shall have 
to give some account of other characters, whose 



JIElhs Jl^iaroxxttd—JlJsttm. 109 


fortunes and destinies go so far toward determin¬ 
ing events of chances and changes, precursorily to 
Esther’s ascension to the throne. 

Shushan, the City of the Lilies, was the seat of 



PERSIAN HOUSE AT SHUSHAN. 


royalty; it took its poetic name from the vast quan¬ 
tities of this beautiful flower which grew around it; 
in the city, on the housetops, and everywhere that 

















no xxf th$ dDmttt* 


there was room for a bulb to be planted, this grace¬ 
ful flower flourished. 

Florists had been able to extend the species into 
many varieties; the tinted, the blood-red, and the 
snow-white grew also on the brink of the water, and 
may have formed some part of their mythological 
worships. 

Shushan, as a royal residence, was like all other 
similar cities of the East. It had the usual admix¬ 
ture of pomp and penury, of gayety and pageantry, 
military and civil, refinement and vulgarity. The 
theatre, patronized by the king, was represented in 
mimic pantomime on the street by the ballet-dancer, 
sifiging-girl, and clown in bells and cleaver; the 
august person of the king jostling the pauper; po¬ 
litical intrigue and amours; kingly retinue, celebra¬ 
tions of religion, which granted license to crime and 
gave expiation for the same. Dice, wine, music, 
the buffoon, the show, each and all were the com¬ 
ponent parts of life in Shushan. 

Just the same life and occupation which have 
through all ages made up the sum of existence, 
have been subject to the same process of change, 



Jplh# —JlJstftsti. 


hi 


undergone the different degrees of refinement and 
variety of manner, incident, episode, and catas¬ 
trophe, from the earliest accounts of nations up to 
the present time, have been repeated and re-re¬ 
peated at different periods, all and each completing 
the requirements of their time; filling the imagina¬ 
tion and suiting the wants of man, which, under 
every dynasty, are still human. 

The splendor and squalor, aristocracy and medi¬ 
ocrity that existed in the days of Ahasuerus had 
been common under other administrations, and in 
the great changing panorama of men’s lives and 
centuric possibilities will be still and again repeated, 
although mutations in public opinions and custom 
sometimes overleap time, and new laws are enforced 
which seem almost miraculous in development. 

Throughout all barbarous or unenlightened ages 
woman has been held subordinate to man; the wife 
has been subject in toto to the will of her lord, and 
her husband, whether a prophet, king, or peasant, 
was in reality her master. Any attempt on her part 
to resist his authority or to declare her individual 
opinion was considered an outrage against the sov- 



112 xxf thb dDttistti 


ereign authority of his will and dignity, and was 
just cause for divorce, and sometimes even the 
severe punishment of death. 

Kings, lords, counsellors, and prophets had more 
wives than one, and the king, not only having some 
hundred lawfully-married wives, had also numerous 
mistresses, or concubines. 

Ahasuerus crowned and made queen one of his 
wives, whom he placed in royal apartments and 
gave maids of honor from the fair women of his 
harem, who were also his wives yet not his queen. 

Of course the queen’s power was but nominal, and 
except in her own province, the secluded apartments 
of the harem, where no man but those who were 
eunuchs ever went, she had no voice, and was sub¬ 
ject to the caprices of the king; though sometimes 
monarchs took to their councils their queens, and 
were aided in their judicial policy by their advice. 

Women of rank wore veils which effectually con¬ 
cealed their faces whenever they went into the 
streets or public places, and on no account whatever 
were they expected to reveal their features; any 
such display would have been a gross violation of 



Jplhfi ^.stben. 


113 

the rules of modesty, and as sure an advertisement 
of prostitution as now it would be for a woman to 
parade her nude figure before the common gaze. 

Only before the face of her lord dared she remove 
the thick covering, and reveal the charms of her 
eyes, the blush of her cheek, the ripeness of her 
lip, or the contour of her neck and arms. How 
particularly an object of scorn would Vashti have 
considered our modern belle, who, with perfect pro¬ 
priety, displays in the ball-room, to the indiscrim¬ 
inate gaze of crowds, the charms of neck and 
shoulders. 

Our modem woman pities no more her Eastern 
sister who has to share the affections of one hus¬ 
band with many wives, than that sister would sor¬ 
row over her supposed immodesty in showing her 
face to any man except her husband; thus virtue 
or vice, modesty or the reverse, prudery or inde¬ 
pendence, are at last comparative, and are compati¬ 
ble or incompatible with the customs and usages of 
the times we live in. 

True modesty, which shines out through the soul, 
is always the most desirable feature in the galaxy 



114 Kiw xxf ths dDmtrt. 


of woman’s virtues, and is the pearl of great price, 
which no custom of barbaric age or of recent eman¬ 
cipation can sully, obliterate, or alter; and is recog¬ 
nizable in all colors, stages, and ages. 

There is recorded that about the time of the third 
year of Ahasuerus, the city of Shushan was fervid 
with excitement in anticipation of an unsurpassed 
festival which would be given to the princes and 
nobles and to all the people, which was to last for 
several successive months. All of the varied para¬ 
phernalia that the coffers of the royal treasury could 
afford, the taste of merchants, the design of artists, 
and the ingenuity of the architect, were called into 
requisition to beautify and adorn the palace and 
courts, and every avenue to the royal mansion. 

The result was, that never before had so gorgeous 
a scene been displayed in the city; purple and gold, 
blue and crimson, with arabesque and chased silver, 
lined the walls; the floors were covered with thick 
carpets of Persian ply in Tyrian dyes. Metallic 
mirrors were hung, vessels of porcelain and gold 
were distributed in fitting places, statues of their 
gods filled up niches, flowers were scattered, while 



Jplbc JDiarrwttd— 


115 


such delicious music filled the corridors and halls, 
saloons and chambers, as deluded the senses of the 
guests into a foretaste of the blisses of paradise. 

All that Eastern splendor aed magnificence could 
contribute was poured in tributary streams, to aid 
the king in his purpose of giving the world some¬ 
thing splendid to remember after it was over. 

There is particular allusion made, in the Sacred 
account of this affair, to the palace gardens, in 
which magnificent silken tents were erected, and 
decorated with an extravagance and reckless disre¬ 
gard of expenditure which is almost fabulous; these 
were more particularly devoted to the gamesters, 
and, of course, scenes of revelry were enacted there 
which baffle the imagination to portray. 

There is no particular reason given why this eele^ 
bration was instituted—whether it commemorated 
a national anniversary, or that the policy of party 
suggested it; political intrigue, or the mere desire 
for pleasure, may have been, either of them, the 
cause; in either case it does not affect the fact that 
such a feast was held, which lasted several months, 
and that the season was replete with intoxication, 





debauchery, and excitement; and was followed, as 
is usual, by regrets, remorse of conscience, and a 
reproving sense of misapplied talents. 

This occurred when Babylon, blood-red with 
riches, was filled full of the pride of pomp and 
power, strong in its own might, and arrogant of its 
possibilities. 

The king entertained the men in his apartments, 
gardens, and pavilions ; there were artificial gardens 
arranged on the house-tops also, which, when illu¬ 
minated, made beautiful effect, and we may well 
imagine the perfect abandon and license of their 
indulgences, when we reflect that no virtuous 
women were present. There were women on the 
scene, of course, famous for their physical charms; 
this was an item in the programme of entertain¬ 
ment which was loudly applauded ; but the pres¬ 
ence of chaste ladies of refinement, which element 
is so potent in humanizing or allaying the gross 
passions, and in bringing out the charm of men’s 
spiritual nature, was lacking, and license became 
lawlessness and obscenity. 

But the fair women of the harem were not with- 



JjKbfi ^Diamond—^Esther. 


ii 7 

out their share of enjoyment, the queen’s apart¬ 
ments were also fitted in corresponding magnifi¬ 
cence, with all the appurtenances requisite for the 
entertainment of the finer tastes of the fair sex: 
and the queen entertained hundreds of the daughters 
of the nobility. 

The rich Persian silk drapery was closely drawn 
over the openings between the two departments, 
which effectually separated them from the men. 
Reclining on couches in elegantly-embroidered 
robes, their splendid hair dressed with bouquets of 
diamonds, and their tiny feet enclosed in sandals 
or slippers of satin and pearls, these Peris of an 
oriental clime made a parterre of exceeding beauty, 
and were fit subjects for the muses to rant about. 

They filled the time with innocent games, music, 
dancing, and telling of tales; this last amusement 
was particularly pleasing to Vashti, and the Arabian 
Nights’ Entertainments may be considered a fair 
transcription of the stories which her maids of 
honor read or recited. 

When we compare the orgies of the males with 
the innocent enjoyments of the females, the contrast 



118 ^E\iuc jewels of the dDmttt. 


brings up forcibly the difference of the sexes, when 
left unrestrained by the association of the other, 
and we see the wisdom in the arrangement of 
Almighty provision which creates the female with 
the powerful prerogative of moral power, the gift of 
keeping refined the fiercer, the more animalized 
man. 

Vashti’ was a woman of not only regal exterior 
appointment, but was noble in soul as well; was 
greatly honored and respected for her virtues and 
amiability of manner, and eminently secured the 
title of “ hospitable hostess” during this season. 

She had been greatly loved by her royal husband, 
who had ever shown her the respect which her 
character claimed; no indulgence consistent with 
his dignity he ever refused her, and their married 
lives had been uninterrupted by a single jar. 

Severe and sad is our reflection upon the act of the 
king which took place in the midst of this season. 

One who fills the post of king for a nation should 
always be the beacon of temperance and moral 
worth; and repulsive to our sense of high honor is 
the idea of his indulgence in degrading and obscene 





119 

exercises and habits, which puts him morally on as 
low a plane as the most obscure and degraded; but 
during the mad carousings of the feast which con¬ 
tinued so long, Ahasuerus partook indiscreetly of 
the various spiced wines, liqueurs, and other drinks, 
and lost his dignity, became boastful of Yashti’s 
charms, spoke boldly and against all marital deco¬ 
rum of their conjugal relations; and the lords and 
courtiers, already half mad with the excitement of 
wine, urged the king to have her brought, that all 
of them might see the charms of which he boasted. 

Such an act was almost unprecedented, but the 
king’s senses were too much obscured to reflect 
upon the liberty of the nobles, and he sent to order 
Yashti to come and display herself. 

Imagine how her modest nature, her dignity, her 
pride, must have felt outraged at such request; to 
disobey, she knew was to incur any punishment that 
the king’s insulted authority might dictate; to obey, 
was to forfeit her character as a chaste woman. 

She hesitated not which to choose; and, thinking 
to herself that the king would, when again sober, 
possibly forgive the offence of her disobedience, if he 



i2o xxf the <^)t[ient. 


reflected that it was to save his honor from injury 
that she took the step, she refused to go, and bravely 
stayed. 

Pale as marble and almost as fixed in position, 
she stood, as she gave the answer: “ Tell my sover¬ 
eign I pray him to excuse me.” 

Terrified at the second summons she stood; the 
elegant drapery of her royal robes trailed over her 
white arms around her magnificent figure, and was 
held up by her especial attendants. With her 
hands clasped together, and held supplicatingly 
upward, she feelingly uttered the words: “ I pray 
you beseech my lord not to insist on an act which 
will cover me with shame*” 

Gigantic moral strength limned her chaste, exqui¬ 
sitely-shaped profile, when, after seeming to debate 
with herself a moment, one hand hanging down, the 
other over her heart,—a position proclaiming so 
forcibly the weakness of physique and the majesty 
of purpose,—she thought, “ Come death or come 
divorce, I will not sacrifice my womanhood 

The king’s wrath was great, for it was considered 
a disgrace for a man, and most especially for a king, 



Jplhs —JlJstlm- 


I 2 I 


to have his word of command disregarded by his 
wife. 

At that time if pacificatory means had been used, 
if his courtiers had turned the subject into another 
channel, and diverted his mind, he would have, when 
his brain was cooler, been glad that Yashti had not 
complied with his insulting request; but the lords 
declared their indignation at Yashti’s disobedience, 
and incited Ahasuerus to a prompt divorce. 

So Yashti was divorced and dethroned. With 
tears and much sorrow, yet with an inward convic¬ 
tion of having performed her duty, and a strong 
sense of self-approval, she left the royal palace 
never more to return. 

When the mad excitement of the time was passed, 
and Ahasuerus thought over the matter, he repented 
him of his act, and saw the beautiful conduct of the 
queen in its proper light; but his decree was immu¬ 
table. 

The regrets, however, must have fastened upon 
him, and made him sad and melancholy, for the 
courtiers who had stimulated him to the rash act 

devised means for a cure to his grief; possibly they 
6 



i22 jewels of the dDnieftt. 


were afraid that the king’s indignation might fall 
upon them; so it is said that they urged him to 
select another wife whom he should make queen, 
and the king consented. 

Yashti must have been very superior, as it was 
difficult to secure ‘another woman who could com¬ 
pare favorably with her, and it was arranged that 
all of the most beautiful virgins of the land should 
be collected and pass in review before Ahasuerus; a 
singular but most pleasing sight this was, as the 
maidens, each one decked with all the external 
arrangements which might possibly enhance their 
native beauty, passed anxiously forward before the 
king, awaiting his choice or rejection; and there 
must have been many an ambitious maid amongst 
them who longed to be chosen, and whose disap¬ 
pointment was great when she found herself rejected. 

It is singular that Mordecai, so strict a Jew, 
should have insisted upon Esther’s joining in this 
claim for the favor of the king’s notice; it is strange 
that he should have wished to marry her, against all 
the rules of his faith, to one who was not of her re¬ 
ligion, and in consideration, also, of his warm at- 





123 


tacliment to his cousin, for whom many think he 
entertained a deeper passion than that of adopted 
fatherly kindness, he did not keep her in retirement, 
and not allow her to join the youthful procession as 
a candidate. 

But it must have been that the prophetic mean¬ 
ing which he read in passing events shadowed 
peril to his nation, and had raised an enthusiastic 
zeal and prepared him to be a martyr for his coun¬ 
try’s sake, a martyr in an abandoned hope of love 
and joy. 

In giving up Esther to the inspection of the king, 
the beautiful dream of his life vanished. He could 
have concealed her, but he urged her to go; nothing 
but the prophetic warnings of his mind, which pre¬ 
dicted that through Esther there was to be deliver¬ 
ance from perils achieved for the Jews, could have 
induced him to sacrifice her to a heathen king. 

Esther had never worshipped any God but the 
Lord God. It turned out that our sweet, gentle 
Hadassah pleased Ahasuerus more than any of the 
maidens. Her modesty in making no extravagant 
demands when presents were offered her, her unself- 



i24 Jwttls txi ths 


ishness, her faultless and exquisite form could not 
be resisted. 

The king, as the maidens passed before him, 
keenly noticed every gesture, step, and glance of 
the eyes, and was particularly attracted to the dig¬ 
nified, easy, yet most modest and unpretentious 
bearing of Esther; he perceived in her countenance 
the reflection of the moral power which glorified her 
whole appearance. The intellect which is clothed 
by virtue and baptized in piety always imparts, 
through the countenance, a sense of strength, and 
Esther’s face eminently reflected the divine inspira¬ 
tion which filled her mind. 

Mordecai did not allow her to betray her parent¬ 
age ; his pride was great, but his love of his religion 
was greater, and sufficient to overcome all things, 
even the affection for Esther, which we suppose had 
grown into his life. 

The very effort of having to conceal from his 
charge the fact of his romantic passion for her, is a 
suggestion that the haughty manner he usually 
observed was induced by that effort. He was too 
noble to name the subject of his sentiments to her, 



IpKbo ^JDiaimwd.—^Ssthen. 


125 


who he knew entertained for him only a daughter’s 
or a sister’s affection; he had crushed back the 
passion as a fruitless and foolish one. 

How forsaken, how forlorn he must have felt, 
after the little lamb had been taken from its fold; 
the rose had been transplanted, his singing-bird 
caged behind the magnificent palace walls! for 
Esther had been taken by Hegai into the harem. 
The act of his resigning Esther was proof of his 
generous, self-sacrificing nature. It seems some¬ 
what strange that no inquiries were instituted in 
regard to Esther’s parentage or antecedents, but so 
the Scripture states. 

It is not known exactly how many years elapsed 
between the time of Esther’s adoption into the 
harem and her ascension to the throne ; but it must 
have been three or four. After she had been chosen 
there were entertainments given in honor thereof, 
and then Mordecai obtained a situation under the 
king, but exactly what is meant by “ sitting in the 
king’s gate,” it is hard to decide. 

Affection for Esther must have induced him to 
take this step, as his reserve would hardly have 



126 jfswsis xxf th$ 


courted so conspicuous a position. From his pecu¬ 
liarly singular place he could observe many a secret 
of the palace, and became a dread, possibly, on this 
very account, to Haman, who was an Amalekite, of 
an idolatrous race and nation, and who was about 
this same time appointed by the king as confidant, 
favorite, and adviser. 

Mordecai discovered an intrigue against the life 
of Ahasuerus, and betrayed it to Esther, and thus 
was the means of averting so terrible a catas¬ 
trophe to king and state; but, singularly enough, 
no reward was given to Mordecai for this bene¬ 
fit, but the fact was chronicled in the king’s ar¬ 
chives. 

Haman was also of noble descent, or was of fine 
extraction as to pedigree, but, though his manners 
were of the most courtly cultivation, his language 
fluent, and his figure and whole appearance quite 
distinguished, yet he was wily, deceitful, and un¬ 
principled ; a schemer, seeking in all things only his 
own aggrandizement and the accumulation of great 
wealth. He gained the unlimited confidence of the 
king, and had great influence over him. 





127 


From the very first, Haman and Mordecai hated 
each other. 

The hatred of their races was concentrated in and 
shown through the two men, and when every one 
was showing obsequious court to Haman, Mordecai 
retained his calm, proud, imperturbable manner, 
and made no sign or gesture of recognition, or show 
of respect. 

When Esther was placed upon the throne, 
another magnificent royal feast proclaimed her 
triumph. 

It was pleasing and flattering to the young 
maiden to be chosen for such high honors, and as 
she had no previous attachment she came sweetly 
and willingly to the arms of her husband, and into 
the favor of the king. And the king forgot Vashti 
in the connection, and luxuriated in the society of 
his bride. He could have granted her any boon. 

During his honeymoon the uxorious sovereign 
conferred great benefits in Esther’s name; the 
taxes of the provinces were remitted, pardons were 
granted to the condemned, so that Esther’s name 
became a proverb in the land and famous in history. 



128 xxf th$ 


She was esteemed among all the people. 
During this season of elevation she retained the 
same sweetness of manner and modest deportment, 
and never arrogated to herself the privileges of her 
high position as an excuse for scorning the humble. 

The fact of her being debarred from the pleasures 
of participation in religious observances, in which 
she was so punctilious before, throws a veil of doubt 
over our minds whether or not she was entirely 
happy, though throughout every event, as the 
Scripture states, she preserved the same child-like 
obedience to her cousin Mordecai. 

Esther, as it had been appointed her to become 
a queen and a wife, with her strict sense of duty 
guiding her, determined conscientiously to perform 
her part; and the womanly heart soon grew to love 
fondly and truly her lord who was so kind to her; 
she learned to cling to him, and created him, in the 
romantic book of her heart, her hero, her love. 

Sadly, indeed, must it have fallen upon her, then, 
when the fickle, voluptuous king, growing weary of 
constancy, suddenly changed; his attentions declined, 
and finally he remained away from her altogether. 





129 


Esther was no longer the happy bride, but the 
sorrowful wife banished from her husband’s pres¬ 
ence. Many bitter tears did Esther shed, yet she 
forgot not to trust in the God of her fathers. Her 
attendants became devoted to her, and anything 
that they could offer for her consolation and amuse¬ 
ment they did not withhold. 

Splendor glittered about her, fine linen, blue and 
gold, flowers and music; • every delectable viand 
which could tempt her palate was profusely spread 
around; yet for all these things her heart was sor¬ 
rowful ; for thirty days she did not behold the face 
of the king. 

In the meantime Haman was unhappy because 
the despised Jew made no concessions, and not all 
the wealth and honor of his favored position could 
banish this one bitter drop from his cup. He 
longed for vengeance, and concocted a plan for the 
destruction of the whole hated race. 

Mordecai secretly believed that it was through 
Hainan’s influence that the king was no longer 
gracious to Esther, and this fact must have made 

his blood boil with indignation. 

6 * 



130 lUive jewels of the <H>rie»t. 


As he walked backward and forward before the 
palace gates, his serious, calm gaze riveted upon the 
walls behind which his beloved was, many pictures 
must have filled his mind of what might have been; 
and Esther, the star of his heart, was still in this 
hour, as through former years, sacred to him; for 
her sake he waited and watched the chances and 
changes, and instituted a secret surveillance over 
Haman, for he suspected him of double-dealing. 
Haman felt the suspicion through the mysterious 
agent, intuition, and hated him none the less for 
it. 

Haman could not be satisfied until the astrolo¬ 
gers were consulted about the selection of a lucky 
day for the slaughter of the Jews; so lots were 
through them cast, and, providentially for the Jews, 
the date was propitious for them, though it was 
hidden from Haman that such was the fact, and 
possibly even from the astrologers themselves. 

According to the king’s order, letters were sent 
into the provinces by posts, which gave the verdict 
of death to all; the edict ran : “ To destroy, to kill, 
to cause to be put to death, to make perish all Jews, 



JjiEttte ^Diamuml—^sthet). 


!3I 


both young and old, little children and women, in 
one day.” 

No crime was specified, and no offer to expiate or 
exempt on any terms. The murder of the nation 
was a lawful act, the manner of destroying life was 
not ordered after any particular plan, but the execu¬ 
tioners were left to their own ingenious devices to 
kill, in whatever way they might choose. 

Every variety of torture that cold-blooded cruelty 
could suggest, they were at liberty to exercise ; to 
exterminate was the great end and aim. The most 
terrible feature in the terrible drama would be the 
stimulus of the promise of plunder; each assassin 
would have the right to take possession of the 
property of his victim. 

Nothing in history is more horrible to contemplate 
than this general massacre, which would have taken 
place through Haman’s agency, but for the working 
of Almighty Providence in behalf of a chosen 
people. The tragedy would have instituted fresh 
scenes of bloodshed; and crime and cruelty, vio¬ 
lence and rapine, would have been the result of the 
terrible prelude. 



13 2 JE&V& Jtewsis tti th$ <|g)t[ixm;l 


All the time that these things were agitating the 
people’s minds, Mordecai rent his clothes, was dis¬ 
tracted with grief, put on sackcloth and ashes, and 
went through the city to condole with his distracted 
countrymen who had so long lived unmolested ; and 
he found so much bitter woe, such helpless sorrow, 
that he joined his lamentation with theirs and wept 
and cried aloud. 

He still preserved the same unbending reserve 
toward Ham an, who gathered his relatives together, 
and with them talked over the subject of the 
slaughter of the Jews, and with the concentrated 
fires of hate and rage burning in his heart, told 
them all how Mordecai had dared to treat him. 

His friends advised him to get the king’s per¬ 
mission to hang Mordecai on a gallows of immense 
height, and in the meantime, that it might be cer¬ 
tainly effected, to have the gallows erected; and 
Hainan did so, not suspecting that he could fail to 
get the king’s consent to it, or to any proposition 
which lie might urge. 

Mordecai’s insignia of grief was not withheld from 
the ey£s of any; he made no secret of his nation. 



MORDECAI AT THE PALACE GATE. 











































































































































































































































































































.< 




* • 








. 'J: v 



















































































JfEfoe ^Dtamtmd—^E^stben. 


i33 


Through all the anxiety and terror he strove not 
to conceal that he was one of the condemned. 

Ahasuerus and Haman, as usual, partook of all 
the pleasures of the table; wine and dice, and every¬ 
thing which could be brought to aid Haman in the 
destruction or suppression of the king’s more amia¬ 
ble nature he called to his aid, and the king’s fickle¬ 
ness was a tool which he used to his own aggran¬ 
dizement ; and while so many innocent people were 
plunged in the deepest grief, he must have kept the 
king’s senses half stupefied with wine. Ahasuerus 
did not realize the enormity of his favorite’s de¬ 
signs, for it is said that “ Haman and the king sat 
down to table,” the pleasures of which were intem- 
perately appropriated, no doubt. 

Mordecai must have despaired but for the pro¬ 
phetic whisperings of his own mind, and through 
the deep veil of present woe realized the light 
ahead. Through Esther, the star, he contemplated 
deliverance for his oppressed race. 

This dream of joy that had come into his earlier 
life, the flower in his garden, the sunbeam in his 
house, the bird in his nest, the lamb in his fold, 



i 34 JSTiue jewels of the (Orient. 


the child under his roof-tree, the genius of his life, 
and the deliverer of Israel; she was the means, 
under Providence, to which he looked for help. 

But where was Esther during this time of tribula¬ 
tion to Mordecai and all the Jews? Unconscious 
of any trouble besides that in her own heart, she 
performed her duties, and fulfilled the plans of each 
day with quiet dignity. She concealed her regrets 
from her companions as well as she could, for her 
pride was sensitive, and she would not allow any to 
remark on the king’s estrangement. 

She gained daily and hourly the affections of all 
those about her—sweet flower, the violet in retire¬ 
ment, which had so lately been the lily worn on a 
monarch’s bosom. 

Esther had one sorrow which was hard to bear; 
she had no communication with her own people, 
and had no opportunity of observing the cere¬ 
monies of her own religion. This, to one so strictly 
trained to observe these laws, was doubtless a 
source of trial. 

On a bright day Esther reclined on a couch of 
royal velvet fringed with pearls, her robes of blue 



Jplhs —JSsthBth 135 


and gold floated over her feet; the sweet perfume 
from a magnificent white lily, which one of her 
beautiful maidens had just presented to her, wafted 
to her senses a reminder of her humble home in 
Shushan before she was queen; the scenes of her 
peaceful life, when she cultivated her own lilies, 
and was content with her seclusion, and she silently 
begged the God of her fathers to bless her with a 
spirit of true submission to any trial which might 
assail her, but that He might not afflict her cousin 
Mordecai. 

Judge of her distress, then, when at this moment 
her chamberlain reported to her an account of 
Mordecai’s condition of grief, and repeated the 
edict of the king. 

Like one awakened from a dream, she was at first 
bewildered, and her earliest impulse was to send a 
message or an order to him to put aside the signs of 
his nativity, and get out of the way of vengeance; 
but of course Mordecai would not obey the order, 
and Esther realized that she was impotent to help, 
and was herself involved in her nation’s danger. 

She knew not how she stood with the king, for 



136 fmiA* xrf 


slie had not seen him for many weeks. She had 
longed for a message or a look of love, and the 
royal favor seemed past. She was afraid that she 
was indeed forgotten; her magnificent halls, par¬ 
lors, bed-chambers, with all the glitter that money 
and power gathered, were but prisons; her lord 
seemed to be the means of her torture. 

She did not even know but that her place in 
his affections might have been filled by a later 
favorite; yet with all this doubt, this dark uncer¬ 
tainty, the dread spread before her, her noble soul, 
true to its instincts, looked up to a higher source, a 
stronger arm for help, and through faith in God’s 
promises rose sufficient to meet the emergency. 

The charms of her glittering surroundings, fairy¬ 
like in beauty and appointment, had no power to 
rivet her regard whilst her people, and possibly her¬ 
self, were in such imminent peril. She suddenly 
decided to go in person, unasked, and to beg with 
all her eloquence and earnestness that he would 
revoke the sentence he had passed. 

She had a keen sense of her own duty, and the 
obligations of her religion, and she also possessed 



—^ESstheP, 137 


the key to the king’s mind; she knew that his 
senses were susceptible to beauty, and she con¬ 
ceived the idea of first charming him by her fasci¬ 
nations into reconciliation and clemency. There 
must have been a direct inspiration which dictated 
her heroic resolve: 

“ I will go to the king, and if I perish, I perish.” 

Such a strong purpose, such lofty resolves, could 
not have been spoken in more forcible language; 
no long sentences could have conveyed as much 
emphasis as these simple words. 

A devout believer in prayer, she instituted a 
solemn fast of three days, in which all the Jews of 
Shushan should bow themselves, and pray also for 
her, before the God of their fathers. This order 
was observed, not in outward celebration, but in 
fervent aspiration and personal humbling of each 
soul. 

The queen and her maidens fasted in their secluded 
portion of the palace, and the fair form, graceful 
neck, and beautiful head of Esther were bowed in 
the attitude of devotion and reverence which true 
earnestness and perfect faith can alone dictate. 



138 ^Slive jewels til the (Drirntt. 


What a contrast to the crowned queen of a few 
months previously! the flattered, the adored wife of 
a king, decked with the adornments of majesty, 
held to the breast of a devoted husband, petted, 
caressed, admired, and honored, now, forsaken; with 
all this grievous weight of anxiety resting upon her 
heart; the orange flowers, the bridal robe, the 
jewels, exchanged for sackcloth and ashes. 

This was the time to try the true force of her 
great nature, and to prove her heroism, faith, vir¬ 
tuous principle, and self-reliance. With these attri¬ 
butes the simple woman may be majestic in her 
own beautiful womanhood, whether she be queen or 
peasant. 

In the meantime, Mordecai contrived private in¬ 
terviews, in which he forcibly urged her compliance 
with his request to persuade the king to repeal his 
cruel sentence. 

It seems to us that the Jew, Mordecai, failed at 
this time to realize the true nature of Esther, her 
generous, self-sacrificing spirit, for he continually 
reminded her that if the nation was destroyed she 
could not escape ; which injunction implied a possi- 





i39 


bility of her being selfish enough to secure her 
own safety, without making an effort for her people. 

He said to her: “ Think not with thyself that 
thou shalt escape in the king’s house more than all 
the Jews, for if thou altogether boldest thy peace at 
this time then shall there deliverance arise to the 
Jews from another place, but thou and thy father’s 
house shall be destroyed; and who knoweth 
whether thou art come to the kingdom for such a 
time as this.” 

This suspicion of infidelity must have pained our 
sensitive Esther, unless she reasoned that Mordecai 
supposed the mind of his Hadassah had been 
turned by her high position. He certainly could 
not have appreciated her unselfish nature, and how 
strong to act she could be when aroused to a sense 
of her position. 

This was a crisis in which she felt the positive 
necessity for prompt action, and her fertile mind 
conceived the plan of giving an entertainment to 
which she would invite the king, and by her fasci¬ 
nations woo him into reconciliation, and then to 
compliance with the appeal in behalf of her people. 



140 JEKiue jewels of the dDmrjf. 


With her womanly intuitions she had perceived 
the assailable points in the king’s character; she 
knew his susceptibility to beauty, and determined 
to adorn herself with all the appliances of the most 
approved toilet, and to call to aid every artificial 
lustre available to enhance her native charms: as 
her case was urgent, policy was wise and diplomacy 
excusable. 

To appear before the king without an order or 
invitation was an unprecedented liberty, and might 
bring disgrace and consequent punishment upon 
her, but she had made her resolution, and would 
abide by it. Her fastidious taste suggested the 
most effective arrangement of the various gifts 
which her royal lord had bestowed upon her in his 
happiness—the diamond rings, bracelets, and neck¬ 
lace, all, she fitted conspicuously. This would, she 
thought, flatter the king, and remind him of their 
tender relations. 

The crown which she took care to place on her 
head was significant of her rights, and was a badge 
of equality, through which she might demand and 
expect acquiescence and favor. 



jPEbs ^©iamxxrtiJ—141 


As she stood at last before her mirror, contem¬ 
plating in her beauty the might that would possibly 
set her people free from a terrible impending fate, 
the blent beauties of heaven seemed to aid her, and 
baptize her with almost divine beauty. 

She hesitated until the last moment, when, throw¬ 
ing her head back, with eyes raised and hands 
stretched forward, she drank in an inspiration of 
heavenly hope, then stepped gracefully and confi¬ 
dently forward to where her lord was, in his audi¬ 
ence-chamber. 

He was carelessly regarding his courtiers, who 
were scattered around, when the sudden appearance 
of Esther seemed to startle the atmosphere of the 
room, as if a star had suddenly dropped from the 
heavens and glorified the scene. 

The king was astonished, and in a moment so 
delighted with the novelty of her act that when 
she gracefully knelt before him he hesitated not a 
moment to extend the sceptre, and bid her rise and 
prefer any request which she might please; and 
when she assured him that it was only to claim his 
presence at a grand banquet, as she found it im- 



142 x*f 


possible to enjoy herself without his society, his 
vanity, his chivalry, and his love were all aroused, 
and he most graciously consented. 

The lords and nobles stood gazing in boundless 
admiration and genuine respect upon the lovely 
vision, and Ham an was flattered beyond measure 
when she, through private motives of policy, se¬ 
lected him from the rest, and invited him also to 
attend. 

The king’s coldness vanished like a mist before 
the morning’s sun; her presence revived a flow of 
sweetest emotions, and Esther was almost sure that 
she might make her real motives known; but she 
suppressed her impatience until things might be 
still more auspicious. 

Haman was delighted; he dressed himself in his 
richest attire, boasted to his wife of the great 
honors he was considered worthy to receive, and 
repaired with the king to Esther’s banquet. She 
suppressed the great indignation that she felt, and 
entertained him becomingly. Haman had elegant 
manners, for he was well cultivated in all court 
etiquette, and was an accomplished lord of the 



jpiba 


143 


times; and lie, no doubt, made himself amiable and 
graceful for the occasion; but Esther knew of the 
viper that lay concealed beneath this fair exterior, 
and loathed his presence in her heart. 

But when the banquet was over and Haman went 
out, the gallows which he had had erected for Mor- 
decai rose conspicuously and portentously against 
the sky, and brought back the hatred which Esther’s 
sweetness and clemency had dispelled; he exult¬ 
ed in the thought that on the morrow his hated 
adversary would be hanging from that very gallows, 
and that before the closing morrow’s sun there 
would not be left one of the despised race. 

But wiser and higher influences were at work, 
influences which come unseen yet all-powerful, to 
frustrate evil designs and wicked machinations 
against the innocent. 

It happened that the king could not sleep, though 
sweet, soft, gentle music stirred in the adjoining 
rooms, the dreamy moonlight streamed through the 
casement, and the very luxuriance of his couch sug¬ 
gested to the senses a lull, a soothing spell, an in¬ 
ducement to sleep; yet the king’s thoughts went 



144 Jffiiije jewels of the <|§)m»t. 


roving, liis eyes were wide opened, and memory 
seemed to have set afloat old forgotten things, 
which arrayed themselves into speaking reminders; 
and at last one call upon his revived recollection 
caught and claimed attention. 

Touching his summoning bell, his attendants 
came, of whom he requested that the archives of his 
kingdom should be brought; and, in the midst of 
his royal bed, he read an account which had 
vaguely suggested itself to his roving thoughts; that 
Mordecai, a Jew, had saved his life by disclosing a 
conspiracy, and that he had never been compen¬ 
sated or requited. 

This struck the grateful vein of his feeling, and 
he determined to set about righting it. 

It could have been no mere chance which dic¬ 
tated the opening of the book of records; it was a 
high power which instigated the act. 

The stars had paled out before the morning sun, . 
when Haman, hasting early to the palace , to obtain 
audience with the king, for the purpose of having 
Mordecai instantly hung, passed Mordecai sitting 
as usual in the gate; the insignia of his race still 



J|)iarotxftd—145 


marked out, in soot, sackcloth, and ashes; yet still 
as proud and silent, he gave no sign of humility or 
respect. Haman arrived at the palace just in time 
to receive the king’s summons to appear at once in 
the audience-chamber. 

The king was glad, always, to have an adviser, 
upon whom he might sometimes shift the weighty 
affairs of state questions, and Haman was the man 
whom he now needed to advise him what high 
honors he should confer upon one who had done 
great service to the king, and whom the king great¬ 
ly delighted to honor. 

Ever presumptuous in his estimate of his own 
worth, he immediately conceived the opinion that 
more startling honors were to be conferred upon 
himself. He was certain that Haman was the ob¬ 
ject of royal clemency and favor; and when Ahasu- 
erus, looking at him, satisfied that his answer 
would relieve him of the burden of thinking of or 
devising some scheme of great benefit, asked: 
“What shall be done to the man whom the king 
delighteth to honor?” he answered: “To the man 

whom the king delighteth to honor let the royal 
7 



146 Jfcewals xxf th# 


apparel be brought which the king useth to wear, 
and the horse that the king rideth upon, and the 
royal crown which is set upon his head, and let 
this apparel and horse be delivered to the hands of 
one of the king’s most noble princes, that they may 
array the man withal whom the king delighteth to 
honor, and bring him on horseback through the 
streets of the city, and proclaim before him : Thus 
shall it be done to the man whom the king delight¬ 
eth to honor.” 

This was a bold stroke, for the very insignia of 
royalty were demanded, and these, doubtless, were 
suggested to Haman on the ground that there was a 
possibility that, through some unforeseen event, the 
king’s dominion might cease, and that he might be 
exalted in his stead. 

What terrible revulsion must have racked the 
brain of Haman; have torn his breast and dried his 
tongue; what blame did he not heap on his own 
head for the infatuation which had dictated his 
vanity; what volcanoes of contending passion 
rocked the foundations of his feeling, when the 
king’s answer declared that instead of himself these 






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- * . 
















* 








































































































































, t 














































the man whom the king delighted to honor. 






















































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































Jpthe ^Diamond—^Easthen. 147 


honors were to go, all of them, to Mordecai, and at 
his own instigation. 

The king said: “Make haste, take the apparel 
and the horse, as thou hast said, and do even so to 
Mordecai, the Jew, who sitteth at the king’s gate; 
let nothing fail that thou hast spoken.” 

Of course Haman knew better than to remon¬ 
strate, for the laws of the Medes and Persians 
were irrevocable. He bowed, and turned to obey. 
He gave the message to Mordecai; was sullen and 
calm, as he, with his own hands, acted chamberlain, 
and arrayed him in robes of royalty and honor. 

It really requires no very powerful stretch of the 
imagination to describe a picture so striking as 
these two men, so opposite in every point and par¬ 
ticular, who now stood in the most peculiar posi¬ 
tions one toward the other. Haman, dark-browed, 
with the whole soul of suppressed hatred, defiance, 
smothered wrath, and malignity, limned in his broad 
profile ; Mordecai receiving the honors as if entitled 
to them, and seeming to show, by acceptance of his 
services, that he was conferring and not receiving 
honor. 



148 Jgfttrs jpewals xxf th$ dDtjisftt. 


The reason for the sudden and great favor must 
have puzzled Mordecai to analyze, yet he expressed 
no more surprise through his countenance than if it 
had been of every-day occurrence. 

It did puzzle him; for when the pageant was con¬ 
cluded and the robes taken off and put away, he 
again occupied the same seat, and resumed the 
sackcloth and ashes; and his case did not seem 
changed, so far as externals were concerned or gave 
evidence. He had not heard from Esther, and the 
gallows prepared for him still stood, a monument of 
wrath against him, and he might, by the next night, 
be dangling from it a lifeless corpse. 

It took all the faith of his sublime nature to 
enable him to adopt, in this hour, his own prophecy, 
that God would save his people, and through Esther. 

Haman, in his shame and despair, went to his 
wife, and on woman’s faithful bosom sobbed out a 
recitation of his woes. She, a seeress, foresaw the 
ruin of her house, told him that his day was over, 
and advised him to flee from the place in order to 
save his life, or take some prompt measure for his 
personal safety; but, while they were yet talking, 



Jplh$ Jliiamxmd—149 


the king’s chamberlain came, and hurried Haman 
to Esther’s banquet. 

On the second day, at the banquet, the king 
desired Esther to make any request of him, and it 
should be granted, to the half of his kingdom. The 
repentant king, doubtless, was anxious to reinstate 
himself fully in the queen’s affections, and wished 
to prove it by some mark of especial favor, a love- 
token. 

The sublime character of Esther shows in strong 
lines at this period. She might have demanded 
that any sum or portion of riches should be settled 
upon herself, and been sure of its being done in a 
magnificent manner; but all and every thought of 
personal favors were discarded and ignored, in her 
self-sacrificing principle of devotion to those who 
were a race persecuted, insulted, and suffering. If 
the objects had been of any nation, class, or people 
who were suspended under such a cruel penalty, her 
pity would still have suggested the plea for their 
lives; her motive was not merely her relation to 
the Jewish race, but her philanthropic spirit was 
her prompter. 



i5o ^S\itr£ ^ur^is xrf tlis dDmttt 


Lovely, womanly, and beautiful, Esther appeared, 
as, gracefully kneeling her supple figure before her 
husband and king, she humbly, yet confidently and 
trustfully, raised her large, soft, gazelle-like eyes to 
his face, and, with the pathos of deep emotion con¬ 
trolling her musical voice, • she uttered the simple 
words: “If I have found favor in thy sight, O 
king, and if it please the king, let my life be given 
at my petition, and my people at my request, for we 
are sold, I and my people, to be destroyed, to be 
slain, to perish.” Then she disclosed her national¬ 
ity and relationship to Mordecai, and quoted the 
edict which Haman had issued in the king’s name, 
with his own signature and seal, and added: “ But if 
we had been sold for bond-men and bond-women I 
had held my peace, although the enemy could not 
countervail the king’s damage.” 

Such an appeal, uttered with all the fervor of en¬ 
thusiasm, melted the king into the most profound 
emotion, and he inquired : “ Who is he ? Where is 
he that hath presumed in his heart to do so ?” 

Haman, confounded, speechless, dumb with con¬ 
sternation, inwardly craved of the gods to extin- 



Jplhs iamxxttd—1 5 1 


guish him on the spot sooner than allow him to be 
made the scorn of the king and the rest; but wick¬ 
edness meets its reward, and he had to face the po¬ 
sition, and bear the levelling of eyes when Esther’s 
finger pointed out distinctly his figure amongst the 
others, and she said the words: “ That adversary, 
that wicked man, is Haman.” 

The king, beyond himself with indignation and 
rage at the weakness which he had suffered to 
master him, the weakness of indolently allowing 
himself to lean continually on another for advice 
which his own kingly mind should have dictated— 
especially as that confidant was now proven before 
his face to be an arch deceiver, presumptuous, 
crafty, and selfish—would not suffer his voice to give 
any expression to his conflicting feelings, but went 
out into the garden, possibly to take a moment in 
which to consider his own premises, and line of pro¬ 
cedure. 

Esther, overcome by her temerity, and nearly 
fainting from excess of emotion, threw her faultless 
figure on a couch, rested her head upon one hand, 
whilst her fairy little feet peeped out from the edge 



1 52 JgTivc jewels of the <H)t?ie»t. 


of her royal robe. She was the very impersonation 
of beauty, the realization of the most enthusiastic 
Persian’s ideal of perfection. 

Haman, crucified by horror at his prospects of 
disgrace, banishment, or probably ignominious 
death, realized that the queen’s prayers alone could 
save him; and in his extremity forgot all else and 
threw himself beside her, imploring her to sue for 
him. 

At this unfortunate moment, the king entered, 
and, seeing Haman in that position, white with 
rage and just indignation, he exclaimed: “ What, 
will he violate the queen here in my own palace 1” 

This was sufficient. Haman’s face was covered— 
significant token; the attendants took him out, and 
the hangman hung him upon the gallows which he 
had had erected for Mordecai, and which was fifty 
cubits high. Thus perished a man whose wicked¬ 
ness suggested the destruction of a nation, from 
motives of personal jealousy. 

Esther’s humane nature could not rejoice in the 
sufferings of any one, but in this act she realized 
that her nation was saved from the cruel edict. 



JjJIfoe ^Diamond—^Estbct;. 153 


Ahasuerus could not unsay what he had once said, 
for the Persian law was irrevocable, but he gave the 
Jews each one the privilege of defending himself, 
and in this way they came out victorious, and 
Esther’s affectionate heart reverenced the king, and 
loved, most fondly, her husband. 

After that every day recorded some boon which 
the king granted her. Mordecai was made prime 
minister, and the Hebrews were all well provided 
for. 

To the disposition of Esther, to her noble char¬ 
acter, and to her piety, we call especial attention. 
When, suddenly reduced to poverty, exiled and de¬ 
pendent on her own delicate hands for every ser¬ 
vice, she retained her patience, took up the lines of 
life as they had fallen to her, and worked them up 
into a beautiful fabric of cheerful adaptation. 

Upon her exaltation to the throne, the quick shift¬ 
ing of the scenes in the drama of her life did not 
disturb the equable exercise of every amiable trait, 
but brought out into more perfect light through 
contrast the noblest purposes and strength of intel¬ 
lect, the severest virtue, the strictest probity, the 



1 54 ^ewsi$ d§ intent. 


most unqualified devotion, tlie most enthusiastic 
patriotism, and the most startling comparisons of 
moral will with baleful influences. 

Throughout every vicissitude of trial and triumph 
she had held to her unflinching faith in God, and 
had unhesitatingly obeyed, with child-like sim¬ 
plicity, her adopted father Mordecai; had held to 
the principles which her early education indoctri¬ 
nated, and never for a moment lost the true sense 
of her obligation to her fellow-creatures. Sacred to 
all hearts be the memory of Esther, the Star! 

Now as a star still brighter she presides, 

Where one continuous joy abides. 

True virtue’s royalty crowns her head; 

By majesty of good her life is led. 

The beautiful deed has won its meed. 

And flowers of faith have riped their seed. 

The stars that decked her earthly name 
Shine brighter now mid heavenly fame, 




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IV. 


Wlje Emerald. 


MAETHA. 


“ She riseth also while it is yet bright, and giveth meat to her 
household, and a portion to her handmaids.” . 

jf ANY had been the changes in the 
lip East between the time that Ruth 
gleaned in the fields, that Adah was 
sacrificed, and the day that Martha 
entertained beneath her own roof 
“ Jesus the Messiah.” 

Wars and rumors of war had shook the earth and 
sent alarms; famine had desolated the land; pesti¬ 
lence depopulated whole sections of a once-happy 
country. Political factions had grown up; policy 



158 Xxf tbs 


had levelled cliques; monarchs had been dethroned, 
and demagogues been exalted. 

Drought and flood, fire and chance, had brought 
their usual degrees of disparity; yet the sun shone 
as brightly, the stars twinkled as gleefully, the 
moon was as tender, and the earth as willing as 
ever. 

Men and women married and were given in 
marriage, and humanity had the same law of feel¬ 
ing. The gold of Ophir, the ships of Tarsus, the 
dyes from Tyre, and the fine linen from Sidon, were 
still in vogue. 

The whole Jewish nation, though separated by 
many leagues of land and water, was existent, and 
still clung tenaciously to the law of Moses, and 
served in the tabernacle. 

The Mediterranean was still pictured with the 
tremulous lily. The blood-red rose blossomed 
amidst the skulls of the battle-field. Diamond and 
gold mines hoarded treasures, which men still made 
ambitious plans to secure. 

Trade and commerce existed; men were subject 
to the same passions; no law in nature was affected, 



JpShs ^E^rosraid—^I^artha. 159 


and jet the epoch of Christ’s birth had come, the 
system of atonement been instituted. 

When we think of the preaching of the Apostles, 
their declaration that the Lord God Almighty had 
come down from Heaven, and dwelt as mortal man 
among the people, we are surprised that such a 
scheme had not changed the whole aspect of the 
world; that all men were not converted to angels; 
and that trade and merchandise were necessary to 
sustain human interests; we wonder that tares ever 
grew again in the soil of earth. 

The Jews never realized that their Redeemer 
existed in the poor Nazarene. Their Messiah, that 
Isaiah sang about, was to be clothed with pomp and 
majesty; his crown was to outshine all other dia¬ 
dems. His sceptre should be potent to elevate the 
whole race to dignity and honor, and to restore 
Jerusalem to its pristine grandeur* 

Only a few of the Jews recognized Jesus of 
Nazareth as the Mediator. 

Not far from Jerusalem, in the town of Bethany, 
there was one little Jewish family who became 
converts to Christ’s doctrine, though they did not 



i6o 38{itr:e xrf thb dDttistvfc, 


really understand the full significance of his mis¬ 
sion. They regarded' him in the light of a friend, 
and truly and sincerely were they attached to him. 

Of the virtue and moral beauty of the characters 
in this little family, every school-child has been 
taught. The circumstance of the death and restora¬ 
tion of Lazarus is a household story. 

The actual history of an}' of the New Testament 
characters is so bare, has so limited a margin for 
speculation, that but little room is found for tradi¬ 
tional embellishment. 

Many efforts have been made to afford detail, 
with such poor success, that we determine to take 
the original tersely-rendered story of Martha, and 
give it, without embellishments of startling style, in 
its most natural manner, to our readers. 

So much merit blends in Martha’s character, that 
any varnish of high color or eulogy would set as 
badly in a picture of her life as frippery and tinsel 
would have been out of taste in her toilet. 

The house owned and occupied by Martha, Mary, 
and Lazarus, in the village of Bethany, was of 
moderate dimensions. It was of ancient date, and 



Jplfte ^Emerald—(Martha. i6x 


ivy clustered around its walls. Cool and pleasant 
the trees made the ground around, and the shadow 
of Lebanon reached nearly to the spot. The brook 
Kedron swept its crystal flood not far distant, and 
Olivet met the kisses of the sky all in full sight. 

Plenty was pictured in the aspect of this retired 
place, and from the doorway, throughout the 
house, there was never to be seen speck nor stain to 
offend the most fastidious. Neatness was apparent. 
There was no need to inquire if a tasteful and in¬ 
dustrious woman presided over the premises,—the 
assurance of it was observable in every object that 
met the eye. 

Martha, Mary, and Lazarus composed the family 
proper. Martha possessed, to an eminent degree, 
administrative ability. She was leader of the do¬ 
mestic menage , a position which called into active 
play her especial talents. 

Her mother realized, before her death, that 
Martha would be trustworthy as manager and head 
of the family after she was gone, and felt no appre¬ 
hensions of the proper training of the more delicate 
and sensitive Mary. 



162 Jgftw xxf tte dDtjistxi 


Long before the dawn fretted the sky, Martha 
was stirring; appointing the services peculiar to the 
day, setting in motion the machinery of domestic 
business, and arranging the maids at their tasks. 
Theirs was a family of consequence in the village: 
she had her servants. 

Even those in moderate circumstances had hire¬ 
lings and apprentices. We do not exaggerate when 
we say that Martha arose so early, for it was the 
custom of the people of the country. The most 
delightful part of the twenty-four hours, in sultry cli¬ 
mates, is before the sun rises. The air then seems 
to be impregnated with an element which invigorates 
the lax frame for the coming action of the sun’s rays. 

Repeated instances are mentioned in the Scrip¬ 
tures of the system of early rising. Kings and 
princes had the habit of rising before the dawn. 
Moses was commanded to stand before Pharaoh 
early in the morning as he came forth to the water. 

Martha’s habit of taking time by the forelock was 
not altogether the result of custom, but was also 
the natural sign of her industry, vigilance, economy, 
and activity. 



Jplhs 163 


She loved to send her orisons forth upon the 
wings of morning, and she also believed that it 
would secure health for her sister, who was not, it 
seems, of so vigorous and energetic a constitution 
as herself. 

Besides, Martha was thrifty, and looked well to 
the ways of her household. She chose, as all indus¬ 
trious housekeepers ivill, to secure a margin of day¬ 
light by husbanding the dawn; she never let noon 
trip up the heels of her morning duties. 

Everybody knows how agreeable a house may be 
in which a cheerful spirit of energy is cultivated by 
its mistress; one who takes hold of duty with joy, 
and keeps her actions springing upon the hinges of 
willingness. 

The atmosphere of such a household reflects 
content, and visitors feel refreshed, as a traveller 
does who comes across a widespread tree when its 
branches are filled with sweet singing-birds. If the 
mistress be querulous and complaining, no one who 
comes under her influence perceives a green tree 
with musical songsters, but, instead, withering 
boughs, with croaking ravens upon them. 



164 ^STive jewels of the 


There was a sense of repose in Martha’s house, a 
kind of rest, such as one experiences when suddenly 
rid of a deafening roar of water or machinery, or 
the pressure of a heavy burden upon the arm. It 
was physical rest as well as spiritual repose; there 
was in the atmosphere a quiet, mingled with the 
serenade murmuring of domestic machinery, which 
satisfied the mind that comforts for the body were 
in process of preparation. 

The three orphans were not forgetful of their 
obligations to their Maker, but gave grateful re¬ 
sponse through their cheerful willingness to take 
life as it was presented. They realized, through 
every sense, the gratification intended; philosophic¬ 
ally regarded the benefits of Providence, despising 
nothing, however trifling in value, that came in 
their way, through which the kindness of a wise- 
Creator might be recognized. Martha, especially, 
applied to actions the injunction, “ Whatsoever you 
do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto 
men.” 

These orphans were well thought of in Bethany, 
and were of consequence, for the town was called 



^EJmsttatd—^J^artha. i65 


the “Town of Martha and Mary.” They were 
Israelites, and practised all the Jewish customs in 
their family and household. 

They became devoted disciples of Jesus; through 
his pious teachings perfected themselves, and lived 
more spiritedly up to the Mosaic commandments. 
To love their God with all their hearts was a privi¬ 
lege out of which grew their love for their neigh¬ 
bors. 

Mary was the opposite to Martha in many traits 
of disposition. It is usual for us to find, among a 
family of five or six, great differences of character, 
intellect, and person. Martha was vivacious, ener¬ 
getic, nervous, and emphatic. 

Positive in principle, she believed that religion 
could be applied in every hour of one’s existence; 
was to be lived , and not merely observed; that it 
was something which might be practised in the 
occupation, design, and exigencies of every-day 
existence; circumscribed by, and subject to, no 
limited prescription of text and letter. 

Martha exerted her piety through every avoca¬ 
tion ; she applied it as an instrument by which all 



166 J : xmrxds txf tbs 


keynotes might be sounded, and believed it suit¬ 
able to be played throughout every section of the 
passing page of existence. She was firm in resolve, 
lofty in aspiration, strong in effort, and invincible in 
integrity. 

From Martha’s industry there seemed to emanate 
an inspiration for her handmaidens, each of whom 
worked cheerfully, as if for pleasure, and not for 
wages. 

There was a halo of geniality which accompanied 
her, and brightened the aspect of each department 
in which she was engaged. This sprang from hope; 
was the fulfillment of the lively faith that always 
actuated her. To believe in the constant protection 
of a superior Providence was her principle, the 
burden of every act. Upon this parallel she 
brought out every minor aspiration. 

Martha was a lily raising its head high, and 
claiming of heaven the dew that it promised. 
Mary, the violet which hung its head, fearing that 
the dew might not deem it of sufficient worth to 
baptize; shrinking and timid, yet lovely and tender, 
waiting to be taught, never claiming to teach. 



Jpthe J3_WErald—(Martha. 167 


Martha, as we have said, was more vigorous than 
Mary in constitution, and in person was opposite. 
Her hair, naturally rich in curls, she, in her severe 
ideas of simplicity, combed back straight from her 
brow. Her eyes were large and sparkling, her 
mouth firm yet very tender. 

She was beyond average height, and properly 
proportioned. Mary was small of stature, fair and 
more spirituelle in appearance; her hair was of 
unusual length and beauty. Never had it been, she 
thought, so highly adorned as when spangled with 
crystal drops that adhered when she made of it a 
napkin for her Saviour’s feet. 

Martha’s position, as mistress of a family, had 
matured her manners into a matronly dignity, which 
enhanced the charm of her temperamental vivacity, 
and secured a serenity of movement which was well 
matched with her person. She possessed eminently 
the great charm of woman, repose of manner; 
from this no sudden transition of feeling could 
throw her. 

Any peculiar emotion was manifested by height¬ 
ened color, the paling or brightening of her eye, and 



168 jewels of the 


the dilation of her nostril. Enthusiasm portrayed 
its zeal in her speaking countenance, not through 
any abrupt movement of her person. Joy could 
tune her voice and play with it varied intonations, 
but could not tempt her into any boisterous mani¬ 
festation. “ Martha was troubled about many 
things,” the Scripture says. 

To be the responsible mistress of a family is no 
light position to hold, especially when one has so 
dear a charge as an only sister and brother to make 
comfortable and happy. She was vitally spiritual, 
though she gave less time to rituals than did her 
sister. 

Prayer is in its highest sense the aspiration of 
the heart, and can be achieved while the body and 
hands are vigorously exercised. It does not require 
the position of kneeling to effect its utterance. It 
is a force which finds articulation at the right 
moment, and is limited by no terms of contortion. 
Martha cultivated it in every season, however com¬ 
plicated and vexed, of her life. 

Besides the usual complement of domestic labor, 
she had her garden of beautiful sweet shrubs and 



^E^ro£ral 4 —(SEiatitba. 169 


luxuriant vegetables to superintend; azalias, roses, 
pomegranates, and jessamines mixed their sweets 
together and flourished under her thrifty hand. 

Every one who had ground raised grapes and 
made their own wine. Martha’s clusters of purple, 
which in those latitudes grow to fabulous size, 
doubtlessly fulfilled the very highest promise of 
cultivation. She had goats which must be milked, 
and in her dairy were^to be found sweet butter and 
young cheese. 

Her vines were her tender inspirers ; she realized 
that no object of nature affords so great a variety 
of allusions as the vine: the widespreading boughs, 
broad leaves, and clustering bunches of luscious 
look and glad taste, continually suggested symbols 
to her mind. 

The faithful Thomas, the companion of Christ, 
the confidante and friend of Lazarus, figured in 
these pictures; sweet thoughts of love engrossed 
her as she coupled him in her mind with a fruitful 
bough whose branches might even at some future 
time overshadow herself. 

She made wine for the good of her family, and 
8 



170 Jgftve jewels of tbs 


with her own hand manufactured linen-cloth; she 
also embroidered her brother’s girdles. 

She was, of necessity, compelled to be careful 
about many things, and worked willingly, or “ with 
the delight of her hands.” Throughout her whole 
life there was a firmness and consistency of charac¬ 
ter shown which is worthy of the highest admira¬ 
tion. 

This, in woman’s character, is a virtue demand¬ 
ing great exercise of moral and religious principle; 
because affection and feeling unavoidably influence 
women generally, which renders them unstable in 
opinion and liable to changes of temperament and 
disposition. 

Mary’s relation to Martha seemed more like that 
of daughter to mother, from the fact of the differ¬ 
ence in their dispositions, though in reality there 
was but a small disparity in their years. 

Mary’s acute sensibility and devotional mind 
readily imbibed a fervor of religious strictness, so 
that sacrament and sacrifice were associated with 
every idea of duty, and disposed her to a rigid ob¬ 
servance of sacred forms; made her more poetical 



aid—171 

and less practical than exactly accorded with Mar¬ 
tha’s positive ideas. 

Martha believed that ordinance, combined with 
the appliances of labor, was more apt to .effect 
rapport with the spirit of Omnipotence than the 
total neglect of utility for sacrament. 

Mary, doubtlessly, was very lovely in disposition 
and manner, as well as in her person. She had 
soft eyes, as tender as a dove’s; her lips could not 
be painted and justice be done them. Over her 
whole countenance was diffused an angelic expres¬ 
sion. Loving, quiet, gentle, devoted, she would 
have made the most ardent nun, for she was never 
so well pleased as when engaged in performing the 
strict duties of the sanctuary. 

Martha sometimes thought that her zeal was 
carried to excess, and attempted to reason with 
her upon the necessity of attendance to the actual 
requirements of material life. At such times, 
Mary would meekly contemplate her sister, promise 
to fulfill her injunctions; but, in the midst of her 
task, would evince so much repugnance for them, 
that Martha was fain to leave her to her own way. 



i7 2 xrf ths 


On one occasion, when the duties of housekeeping 
had accumulated, and Martha’s busy hands and 
fertile brain were not sufficient to conceive and per¬ 
form, she sadly complained to Jesus of Mary’s in¬ 
difference to her heavy responsibilities. 

She was mortified and pained at the rebuke con¬ 
tained in His answer: “ Martha, Martha, thou art 
troubled about many things, but Mary has chosen 
the better part, which shall not be taken from her.” 

Martha sorrowfully turned and left Mary sitting at 
His feet, drinking in the beautiful language of inspi¬ 
ration that fell from his lips; she contrasted the 
pleasure which she might take in His teaching, with 
the positive necessity that existed of her carefully 
providing comfortable cheer for the beloved Guest, 
but, with her usual self-sacrificing spirit, accepted 
the blame, determining to perform double part and 
let Mary have the full benefit of His society, since 
she was debarred from the privilege; practical in 
everything, in self-sacrifice and mortification, as 
well as in performance of physical labor. 

When the snow-white cloth was laid, which was 
the work of her own hands, Martha remembered 



JjUfoe ^^merald—(partita. 


i73 


that while the shuttle was flying back and forth 
through the web, she had lifted up her heart to her 
God and begged him to weave her every action into 
a w r oof of perfect good. 

When the sweet butter was brought, she thought 
of the prayer her soul had uttered as she churned 
it; to implore God to create in the depths of her 
heart, all good resolves, and enable her to turn them 
out in accomplishment of effort. 

When the ripe fruit was placed in the baskets, 
she called to mind her wishes while gathering it, 
that she might be ripened or developed into full 
fruition of wisdom and goodness. She w T as com¬ 
forted when she reflected that, through her inde¬ 
fatigable industry, her beloved Jesus would be com¬ 
fortably fed and entertained. 

About Bethany there were many pleasant ram¬ 
bles, and in the twilight of evening the sisters often 
went out to meet Lazarus when he was returning 
home from his business. Once, they were delighted 
at the unexpected sight of Jesus and Thomas in 
company with him. Thomas was the dear friend and 
confidant of Lazarus, and also a disciple of Christ. 



174 jewels xrf the detent. 


The brook sang its measures; the stars shone; 
the sweet summer-breezes rustled through the scar¬ 
let cactus-blossoms ; Martha’s heart throbbed to the 
sweet emotions of love, for Thomas held her hand, 
and the Christ, the Prince of Peace, walked beside 
them. 

Wondrous privilege had they; and yet they hu¬ 
manly regarded him as was best and right. 

Had they realized that God was in Jesus they could 
not have held him in the sweet estimation of friend. 
Their awe for so august a presence would have made 
wide separation between them. Mary’s sweet eyes 
* beamed with a holy fire. While she listens to his 
teachings, her heart beats responsive: her feet 
touched the sward lightly in time to her joy, and 
her voice assumed its most melodious tones. 

Martha looked strangely beautiful and queen-like, 
as she walked by the one she loved with human love. 

Ah! love will exist , even though the feet of Je¬ 
sus tread beside ; naught that ever yet touched the 
soul has power to hush the strain which was insti¬ 
tuted in Paradise. Martha’s face shone with its re¬ 
flection, the whole atmosphere took its likeness from 



JjElhs ’JStmzv aid—(Martha, 175 


the glad inspirer, emotion was set to pulse, which 
strung the harp of her soul, and played on it the 
sweetest melodies that ever made glad her heart. 

The murmurs of Kedron sounded like whispering 
voices of angels. 

To Jesus, who heard all the still tones of nature, 
who communed continually with the invisible agents, 
the very breeze that fanned his cheek was vocal 
with the messages and love-tokens of his celestial 
inspirers. Nothing was a mystery to him ; he read 
prophecy in everything, from the dream of his sleep 
to the death of a friend. 

His soul was open to spirit sight; he kept com¬ 
pany with prophets, priests, martyrs, and kings, 
through his gift. 

By him the sky was fathomed, space defined, and 
sublimity comprehended. He saw the course of a 
soul when freed from its tabernacle of clay, and 
followed the flight of mind from one stage to another 
of immortal progression. 

On this particular evening his tongue burned with 
eloquence, his speech suited the understanding of 
his friends. Mary and Lazarus walked on beside 



176 jewels of the (SDr.ieot. 


him, Martha and Thomas behind. Sweet flowers 
grew on the borders of their path; the glowworm 
gave light to the dewdrop which bathed the violet. 
Summer exulted in fragrance and mellow tints. 

Meantime, heaven watched, with its eyes of stars, 
upon the devoted head that walked that evening 
beneath its canopy. 

When they reached the house, the white cluster- 
roses that gleamed through the mist of evening 
were heavy with fragrance, and Jesus took one 
that Mary gathered, the sweetest spray, and held it 
in his hand. His hands, soft and tender, although 
inured to toil, were fit and meet to handle flowers, 
things which bring a sense of peace and rest, and 
typify purity. 

After they had gone into the house, Martha 
brought a vessel of water, and Mary bathed the 
feet of Jesus with her hands; this was a custom 
which Jews were careful to observe, and was most 
grateful to Jesus, who had wearily trodden the 
rough ground; the stones had bruised his feet, and 
it must have been a positive luxury to have his tired 
members manipulated by woman’s tender hands. 



Jplhs*^l 5 msral>d— 


1 77 


Jesus loved this family tenderly and truly; he 
was confidant , friend, and counsellor to them, and 
their house was a retreat which he gladly availed 
himself of. 

"Without a roof for his head, or a couch for his 
body to lie on, persecuted, misunderstood, misap- 
preciated, despised, and slandered, this home was 
to him a bright spot in his existence : the cordiality 
of their friendship touched his heart, as dew refreshes 
flowers. No amount of adulation bestowed upon a 
king could have brought so sweet a savor: their 
affection was bestowed upon a despised Nazarene, 
a poor carver of wood. 

Their purity of motive could not be questioned. 
For through Jesus they saw no promise of future 
emolument, no incentive to a mode of policy. There 
was no governmental office in prospective for them 
to play for; no judicial post to aspire to, no rank, 
no gift to hope for; they loved Jesus of Nazareth, 
and he knew it, because of his goodness, his wis¬ 
dom, his powerful gifts, and for his affection mani¬ 
fested toward them. 

Not until long afterward did these three realize 
8 * 





the significance of his name, the sublimity of his 
character. Still, Martha’s faith was so unqualified, 
so clear, so full, that she believed him capable of 
performing any feat, however wonderful; there is 
nothing that he taught but was treasured in her 
thoughtful mind. And after the dear one was 
buried and had risen, these things came back before 
her, and she saw plainly what it all meant,—that 
the Comforter whom he promised to send them, 
after he was united to the Father, was the Spirit of 
himself. 

Even when Jesus discoursed to them about the 
destruction of the temple, and its reorganization on 
the third day, it did not occur to them in its full 
significance. 

Martha’s generous management was never more 
cheerfully appropriated, than when this loved Guest 
tarried with them ; cool linen, smelling of rose- 
leaves, she placed upon his bed, arranged flowers 
on his table, fixed a hundred other little apprecia¬ 
tive appliances in his bedchamber, all of which 
were grateful to the refined tastes of Jesus. 

The appointments of the whole establishment were 



Iptbe ^HJweraid—(Martha. 179 


such as secured him sweet recreation after his buf- 
fetings with rough men, who were deaf to his 
teaching, inappreciative, and who even sought his 
life. 

Every one has, sometime or other, sat at a lux¬ 
uriously furnished table, where form and fashion 
prescribed the terms, and can contrast their sensa¬ 
tions at that meal with those experienced at a 
dinner that was served in a less costly manner, yet 
where the host and hostess presided, and dispensed 
fervent, unadulterated hospitality. 

Offices of love, served by willing, ready hands, 
were what was accepted and gladly appreciated by 
the lonely Nazarene. He often spoke to Martha in 
praise of her beautiful dishes and arrangement of 
household affairs, which praise was worth to her 
more than rubies and gold. 

We know that the brain is dependent, very much, 
upon the stomach, and that through the act of 
digestion is the mind and disposition kept healthy 
and amiable, or the reverse; that digestion is pro¬ 
moted or retarded by the quality of food taken into 
the stomach; to insure sufficient nutriment to the 



180 ^I8\itr$ Jfswsls ni 


blood, phosphorus to the brain, and albumen to the 
bones, this law of hygiene should be well under¬ 
stood by the director of the culinary department of 
a house. Martha succeeded in making her table- 
fare wholesome as well as agreeable. Everything 
that she undertook she performed thoroughly; her 
good sense, forethought, and discrimination were 
rarely led into mistake. 

It was their privilege to have plenty; simplicity 
was their rule. Martha’s lot was cast where vigi¬ 
lance and effort were imperative. She knew that if 
she faltered in the faithful discharge of her ap¬ 
pointed duties, those dearest to her must conse¬ 
quently lose many of their indulgences. 

Sometimes housewives in their zeal to have their 
respectability sustained, become indifferent to the 
interests which affect their eternal welfare; they 
forget the transitory nature of secular pursuits; 
how quickly what seems of most importance to the 
mortal may suddenly drop from their hands and 
perish, or that they may, in a moment’s time, be 
separated from earth, from friends, wealth, rank, 
and influence, and be transferred to a sphere where 



—^Eiartda, 181 


the consequences of misapplied energies and tal¬ 
ents will be regret and disappointment. 

Jesus at one time perceived that Martha might 
possibly become too much absorbed in worldly 
matters, and hence his timely rebuke. “Martha, 
Martha, thou art troubled about many things. Mary 
has chosen the better part, which shall not be taken 
from her.” 

Lazarus had the management of their joint patri¬ 
mony, and was successful and prosperous in his 
business. 

He was a young man of middle stature, athletic, 
and healthy; he had the complexion and expres¬ 
sion of Mary. He was refined, his temperament 
poetical, and his tendencies religious. He had great 
taste for beauty, and a keen appreciation of power 
of intellect; was a comfort in every respect to his 
sisters. His habits had always been above reproach. 
He engaged in none of the boisterous games of the 
age, nor followed any vice; was very beautiful in 
features, and was a fit mate for his beloved friend 
Thomas. 

The fact that Jesus chose Lazarus for an intimate 



182 5 §{ive jewels of fbo < 2 Di;iettt.. 


companion, justifies us in ascribing to liim the very 
highest moral, mental, and spiritual attributes. 
Their friendship was faster than that of brothers, 
and they rejoiced together over all that was 
presented to them through the divine sight of 
Jesus. 

Great indeed was the spiritual benefit conferred 
upon the little family by the companionship of 
Jesus; we may conceive that hosts of angels 
attended Christ, that a train and retinue of unseen, 
invisible spirits, gathered around, and encompassed 
him in their charmed circle, shielding, guarding, and 
ministering to him. The whole house must have 
been overshadowed by their influence, whenever 
Jesus rested in it. 

The prophecies of Martha’s favorites, David and 
Isaiah, occurred to her: “ The angels of the Lord 
encampeth around about them that fear him and 
again: “ I will give my angels charge concerning 
thee, that they bear thee up in their hands, lest at 
any time thou dash thy foot against a stone.” And 
yet more: “ The angels shall minister to him.” 

Oh! what privilege had Martha; to have a guest 



Jplhe Emerald—(H^artha. 183 


who kept company with angels; who saw heaven 
open, and who was conversant with Moses and the 
Prophets! 

But Jesus was very much persecuted by the 
people, so much so that it was not safe for him to 
stay about Jerusalem; so with many tears and 
lamentations the family of Bethany assented, at 
the last moment, to the scheme of his retirement to 
another section. 

They went with him a part of the way, and tried 
to lighten the journey by every means they could 
devise. Martha prepared nice bread and cake, and 
put up a bottle of her own wine for him to refresh 
himself with. Mary worked his girdle and placed 
within it a testimonial of her love and tender inter¬ 
est. When at last they had to separate, they kissed 
him and returned. 

Many were their apprehensions concerning him, 
until they heard that he had reached Bethabara, 
and that he had some of his disciples with him. 

Martha, after his departure, prophetically con¬ 
jectured that some calamity would happen to them, 
and could not stifle her apprehensions. With these 



184 Jg-tve jewels of the 


forebodings she did not care to distress Mary, who 
was already afflicted at the departure of Jesus. 
Martha was prepared for the illness of Lazarus, 
which commenced soon after, and which terminated 
so fatally. 

The dearly-beloved, affectionate, beautiful brother 
was stricken down with a nervous disorder, and 
despite the skill of the Jewish doctors, who were 
very attentive and learned besides, and the unceas¬ 
ing ministrations of the two afflicted sisters, he grew 
worse and worse. At this point Martha wrote to 
Jesus, and sent the letter by an especial messenger, 
informing him of the illness of Lazarus. 

This one act is sufficient to demonstrate the in¬ 
domitable faith of Martha; the fact of the wording 
of the letter. She used no entreaties, put forth no 
complaints, uttered no murmurs, but only said: 
“ Our brother Lazarus, whom you love, is sick nigh 
unto death.” She believed that the knowledge of 
their need would be sufficient to bring Jesus straight 
to them ; she knew of his wonderful powers to heal, 
and felt sure that all would be well if he could once 
more return. 



]E[ro£tta14—185 


Wonderful faith is this, which realizes that the 
demand of the soul will be sufficient to insure its 
supply. 

Of course, it was not necessary for Jesus to receive 
written intimation of the illness of his friend, for his 
soul perceived his condition, though leagues of land 
and water separated them. Yet he went not, at 
once, for he knew that there was a particular pur¬ 
pose to effect, and he remained away intentionally. 

In the meantime Lazarus, young, fresh, vigorous, 
and the beloved of Jesus, withered and wasted, his 
pulse sank, and at last, without a groan or sign of 
pain, he took on the deep sleep from which the 
doctors and friends never expected to see him 
restored. 

Great was the agony of distress into which the 
sisters were thrown, though Martha still expected 
Jesus, and believed that he could give them conso¬ 
lation. All families of consequence about Jerusa¬ 
lem had vaults; Martha had a family-tomb where 
were laid her father and mother; into this was 
Lazarus laid away, after they had kept him out 
three days. 



186 Jg-trs J'sw&ts X*f thB dDrtetti 


Martha wandered about restlessly. It was tlie 
custom with the Jews for the doctors to stay with 
the family after the decease of their patient, and to 
render all the comfort in their power; the house is 
also put in mourning, and the bereaved are draped 
in the sable symbols of woe. Martha could not sit 
still; a spirit of restlessness occupied her. On the 
fourth day after her brother’s death, she perceived 
that Jesus was near, and ran to meet him. 

She fell upon her knees and uttered the words : 
“If thou hadst been here my brother had not 
diedand after his answer, added: “ but I know 
that even now, whatsoever thou wilt ask of the 
Father he will give it thee.” Wondrous faith ! her 
heart throbbed with expectancy; her Lord had 
come, and she trusted him. 

Thomas, at the first intimation of Lazarus’ death, 
had, while the other apostles urged him not to go 
where so short a time before the Jews had tried to 
stone him, begged Jesus to accompany him back, for 
his grief was so great that he said, “Let us go 
back, and die with him.” 

He was now in company with Jesus, and the tears 



187 


of Martha greatly distressed and pained him. He 
looked wistfully at the friend of whom so much was 
always expected, and when Martha retired to call 
Mary and give her secret information of the arrival 
of the beloved Jesus, Thomas moved involuntarily 
toward the sepulchre, having hold of the arm of 
Jesus; then Mary came forward and related her 
woes. “ Jesus wept.” 

The history of the tragedy at the sepulchre all 
are so familiar with, that we cannot invest the sim¬ 
ple fact with any-description which would seem new 
or add interest. It speaks for itself, and the great 
nature of the event is beyond mere rhythmetrical 
calculation to portray. But the strength of Mar¬ 
tha’s character shone out through the trying 
ordeal; serene and calm she stood, while the voice 
of her Lord called aloud for Lazarus to come 
forth. 

There were many present who did not believe 
that Christ could effect the end he proposed; even 
Mary trembled with apprehension. What if he 
failed ? his own reputation was at stake as well as 
her hope; the Jews stood ready to accuse him of 



188 txt tbs dDritmi 


making false professions if he failed, and equally 
ready to accuse and condemn him if he succeeded. 
Thomas stood by holding a hand of each of the 
sisters; his’ heart beating quick, his sympathies 
keenly alive, his anxiety intense. 

It was indeed a moment of great suspense. Stout 
hearts and strong faith were necessary for the occa¬ 
sion. The servants stood grouped around the two 
sisters, contemplating them with serious eyes; those 
who had been accustomed to regard Martha as a 
person of superior mind and fortitude, watched her 
with suspended breath ; they perceived that she was 
equal to the crisis ; the faith that had prompted her 
speech—“ Even now, if thou wilt ask the Father, he 
will give thee Lazarus back to life,” sustained her. 
She believed, and she realized. 

After Lazarus was restored* and his energies 
somewhat resuscitated, he was lifted in solicitous 
hands to his house. Mary sat at his feet and 
bathed them with glad tears, while Martha, radiant 
with the lustre of hope realized, daintily fed him 
with nourishing food; Thomas knelt beside her, 
while Jesus, the wonderful Physician, stood con- 



Jplhs ’JSjcuzv&Xfl —189 


templating the result of his skill, the observed of 
all observers. Martha’s cheeks were deeply dyed 
with scarlet, always a sign with her of great emo¬ 
tion ; her hand trembled a little, while her eyes 
beamed with a hundred new joys. 

Lazarus was so contented, so easy, so sweetly 
compelled to be administered to, that his senses, 
still weak from long fasting and confinement in the 
vault, were scarcely yet able to realize that he was 
not in a state of beatitude. 

There were enemies on the scene, fierce scowl- 
ers, who were even then concocting plans to murder 
this great Healer, and who soon went out to take 
counsel together for his destruction. 

After a few days the household of this “ little 
family ” was restored to its usual order, and Martha 
assiduously applied herself, with renewed dispatch, 
to her domestic duties. 

She left Mary to attend personally to Lazarus, 
who was somewhat weak and unsettled, whilst she 
traversed every department. Like humming-birds, 
her feet flew about with the alacrity of affection and 
interest; every one of her movements was dictated 



190 JS\itr£ txf 


by thankfulness; for Lazarus, her beloved brother, 
was among them again, brought up from the grave; 
for him now she might work; her old incentive was 
restored. 

Thomas, also, the inspirer of all sweet melodies of 
her heart, her pattern of excellence and picture of 
beauty, was near her. 

Martha was so great in her excellence of faith, 
that she worked as but few ever did. She lived and 
'practised her faith, through every moment of secular 
life; well might Thomas regard her as a miracle 
of beauty, amiability, and Christian virtue. 

This friend, counsellor, physician, was compelled 
to secrete himself. Thomas, John, and Martha pri¬ 
vately arranged a mode of administering to him, 
as long as it might be necessary for him to remain 
secreted. 

It was late one evening, when the shadows had 
grown thick, the dew was falling, and the murmurs 
of Salem came through the distance, that a group of 
four or five might have been found standing under 
the shades of a Lebanon cedar. Sobs, incapable of 
repression, smote the still atmosphere. Mary was 





191 

leaning her head upon the bosom of Jesus, taking 
leave of her beloved Lord; amid so many threaten¬ 
ing dangers, she believed that she would not meet 
him again. He kissed her, spoke consoling words, 
and was gone out into the darkness, while Mary and 
another sorrowfully went home again. 

Joyful was the effect of His appearance again, 
when, six days before the Passover, he came 
straight to the house of his friends. Many 
strangers were anxious to behold him who was 
capable of such wondrous deeds. 

And Martha, ever watchful of his dignity, proud 
for his honor, proposed to her brother and sister 
that they give him a great feast or supper. A sup¬ 
per under such circumstances, she knew, would 
prove their appreciation of him to the whole 
people; for among the Jews a manifestation of 
that kind was an especial honor to the one to whom 
it was given. A supper denoted full fellowship and 
perfect friendship. 

To this both agreed; so with joyful alacrity they 
set about to have prepared all that culinary skill 
could devise for the table, or that good taste and 



i9 2 3§\we xrf tbs 

ingenuity might suggest for the full pleasure of the 
occasion. 

It was a success. The most remarkable act of 
Martha, but one which was entirely characteristic 
of her perfection of Christian character, was her 
humility in serving with her own hands at the table. 

Her elastic figure swayed gracefully back and 
forth in her polite service. She wore a flowing robe 
of green, with a soft, white lace-veil which shaded 
her beautiful throat, and was lightly thrown back 
from her pure brow. One single ornament she 
wore—a sprig of green, a bit of cedar which Tho¬ 
mas had begged her to wear, reminding her that 
it was a fit emblem of her faith and constancy to all 
whom she claimed as friends. 

Thomas gallantly assisted her to serve, or to wait 
upon the table, and we may imagine what an im¬ 
pression her act of humility before this large com¬ 
pany created, for she was a woman of rank, and in 
circumstances above any such office. They as¬ 
cribed consequence to a guest who was worthy of 
such an act of devoted attention. 

Joyfully fled the hours to the guests generally, 



Jplbe Emerald—(^P)autha. 


193 


though to some there was a sorrowful beckoning of 
calamity, and Jesus himself knew of what cup he 
must soon drink. 

We must leave Martha while the Hour is rosy 
with hope and joy; while the beautiful inspiration of 
faith lighted her eyes, and gave swift step to her 
feet; while the pleasure of sight was hers, and the 
realization of the presence of those dearest on earth 
to her, made glad her heart; while Jesus was there, 
and light and music and wine painted red the season. 

We must draw the curtain before the darkness 
which settled upon Gethsemane is presented; be¬ 
fore the vail of the Temple is rent in twain. 

Nothing that could be woven farther would con¬ 
stitute a more perfect picture than what we have 
already tried to portray; of Martha’s faith, indus¬ 
try, zeal, truth, and constancy, manifested not only 
through outward observance in sanctified places, 
but in every action and event of her private life. 

Martha stands prominent and fairest in the galaxy 
of “ Faithful Onesmay each and all of her sisters, 
in Israel and in Christendom, imitate her excellent 
example. 


9 



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THE RUBY. AN ASSEMBLY OF THE FOLLOWERS OF CHRIST. 





























































































































































































































































































































































Jlnky, 

ELECTA. 



T was midnight. In an elegant room, 
upon a luxurious couch, a matron 
slept. The moonbeams came in at the 
window; not being satisfied to burnish 
into splendor the silver mountings of the 
furniture, they stole across the ’Persian 
carpet, and kissed the hair, eyes, and lips of the 
beautiful lady; and invisible angels were there, 
“ encamping about her whom the Lord loved.” 

Worthy was she of the ministration of angels, 
for she was full of grace, moral virtue, and practical 
piety. While the moonbeams ravished her face, 
she was dreaming; the pictures painted upon her 




198 JRiw Jfewsis xxf tb£ 


sleep were doubtlessly intended for prophetic warn¬ 
ings. 

She dreamt that it was a future day, full of 
turbulence; that strange factions had sprung up, 
for which men and women were willing to be mar¬ 
tyrs ; she saw bloodshed, a mob, a rough giant, who 
came forward and proposed terms, which he said 
would be sufficient to expiate some gross offence 
she had committed, but what, she did not perceive ; 
she declined his terms; he gave her blows, dragged 
her by the hair, and she was about to perish when 
she saw a light, and from it came a voice, saying: 
“ Whosoever believeth in me, though he perish, yet 
will I sustain him.” 

The dawn of morning broke over the world, the 
sunshine’ replaced the moonbeams, light of day 
baptized her face, compelled the ugly vision to pass, 
and restored the cheerful consciousness of safety 
which morning always brings; but for a long time 
the impression of Electa’s dream remained fixed 
upon her mind, and thrills of apprehension would 
seize her when she related it. 

The dwelling of Electa was of a style of archi- 



jPEhe —^.iecta. 


199 


tecture which the extravagant period of her grand¬ 
parents recommended; gold and silver were not 
rare in panellings, cornice, and doors. Built of the 
finest material that artisans -could find, and embel¬ 
lished without regard to cost, it stood, fair and 
elegant to behold from the exterior, pleasant, cheer¬ 
ful, and splendid within. A fit abode was this for 
our “ Chosen Lady.” 

Electa had been brought up amidst the gorgeous 
scenes and circumstances of Oriental wealth, and 
when she inherited this residence and came to oc¬ 
cupy it, she delighted to add improvements, and to 
adorn it with, some of the fashions of her far-distant 
native East. Luxury abounded, yet good taste and 
reason controlled the appointments of this extensive 
establishment. 

The situation was one of exceeding beauty; ro¬ 
mantic and picturesque, it yet retained enough of 
what we call feudal aspect to inspire us with an 
idea of the chivalric days when heroes assembled 
with their legions at the feast, where the victor, pre¬ 
ferring honor to conquest, might be imagined riding 
up to the very door to have the badge of victory, 



200 jewels xxf the 


made of holly-leaves, placed upon his brow by the 
ruler and president of the game. 

Behind there was the sparkling water; to the 
right the fertile fields, filled with loaded vineyards; 
to the left, the distant turrets of a great city, and 
overhead, the fairest sky that ever canopied a land. 

There were successive terraces around the house. 
Spreading widely out were gardens of paradisaical 
appearance. Fountains of exquisite design played 
in every proper place, the bottoms of whose basins 
were made to reflect the water, and magnify it to 
startling depths. 

Natural beauty, adorned by every suggestion of 
art, conspired to make this spot beautiful indeed. 
There were aviaries which excited the wonder of 
the learned naturalist. Miniature museums were 
fitted with curious and beautiful specimens; flowers, 
whose types were not elsewhere known, flourished; 
the foliage of the spice-trees made the air redolent 
of perfume. There were artificial fans operated, 
and a dew created by an expensive apparatus, 
which, let the day and season be as sultry as the } 7 
might, made the atmosphere cool and balmy. 



IplbD 


201 


Clear streams were turned, and made to run their 
course over wires, which caught the liquid woof and 
wove it into music. 

For fourteen years Electa occupied this beautiful 
spot, before we introduce her. Five sons had been 
born to her, each one healthy, intelligent, and amia¬ 
ble. In those days gymnastic exercises made an 
important branch in young men’s education, and 
through the exercise of athletic sports our Electa’s 
sons had strengthened their sinews and secured 
elasticity of muscle. 

Electa’s husband was a Greek, of elegant accom¬ 
plishments. He had been reared among nobles 
who were his peers. He was gifted with many vir¬ 
tues ; his fine person, set off by graceful manners, 
made him a meet companion, in external beauty, for 
Electa; while his truly amiable, independent, and 
noble spirit created the true congeniality without 
which-, in wedlock, there can be no true happiness. 
He had, whilst a youth, won many prizes for vic¬ 
tories achieved in the different branches of art 
peculiar to the age and nation. 

They had been brought up in the midst of hea- 



202 jewels of the 


thendom, where the worship of the living God 
Almighty was not known or recognized. 

Feasts and observances were held, in which out¬ 
lays were required, of such costliness, brilliance, and 
display, as would, if described for our readers, 
induce them to imagine that we copied the Genii 
of Aladdin’s lamp. Games, exercises, and exploits 
in wrestling were introduced as a part of the grand 
season of Feasts, and Adrian was expert in all. 

Electa had met him at the coronal of one of 
these matches, where a single wreath of wild olive 
was his sole reward for victories which men would 
have set any time, labor, and means to accomplish. 
Honor was his incentive; no mean impulse ever 
actuated him. As Electa was a virgin princess, 
she was entitled to an honorable seat on occasion 
of feasts. 

She first saw Adrian when the highest honor was 
conferred upon him that young men ever aspired 
to; that of having the year dated with his name; 
placed in the calendar, and in front of all laws made 
in the same year with the victory. That his name 
was thus honored, she herself beheld. He had 



Iptfoe -jgiscta. 


203 


carried his ambition of making a great figure in 
games as far as any man; and distinguished himself 
in the most splendid manner. 

In some instances, where Olympic games were 
celebrated, ladies were admitted to dispute the prizes. 
There are statuary and paintings descriptive of female 
victors yet to be seen in ancient cities, but our Electa 
was too retiring in her sweet nature to compete with 
men for a prize; she was satisfied that her Adrian 
should wear all badges of public distinction, and was 
contented to shine in the reflected light of his honor. 

She married him when he and she both were 
worshippers of gods, and amidst the oriental cus¬ 
toms, under a tropical sun, lived with him six sweet 
years. But after the death of her grandfather, who 
was an Israelite of the tribe of Judah, they removed 
to Judea to enjoy their ancestral inheritance. 

Old ties called loudly to Adrian to return to his 
native land, but the wife and one little boy were so 
delighted to remain, that he became persuaded to 
content himself, and made his adopted home and 
country as dear to his affections as he could. 

He often took Electa and her older boys to 



204 Jnivs ^ 


Rome, and by narrating the history of pictures, 
architecture, statues, and scenes to his intelligent 
children, making every narrative agreeable by 
traditional description, he hoped to foster a clas¬ 
sical taste in their impressible minds, in which 
wish, from the subsequent history of one, at least, 
of his sons, he was not disappointed. 

Electa, whose beautiful tastes were nurtured to 
the utmost capability, revelled in all the accessories 
that a new field of study presented, and she and her 
husband were wont to visit the ruins of Sodom, the 
sepulchral shades of the tombs of Absalom and the 
prophets, and the catacombs; with the law of Mo¬ 
ses and the chronicles of the Jews she was so de¬ 
lighted, that every traditionary foot of soil awakened 
to her reaching mind a new vista through which she 
beheld the One Great God. 

The religion of her forefathers came back to the 
grandchild as an inheritance ; she had cast from her 
the last vestige of idolatrous opinion, and was to 
be found in the Tabernacle worshipping with the 
Israelites, where she first heard of the Jesus of 
whom the apostles preached. 





205 


She was ripe for the New Testament, for she com¬ 
prehended in the Old the dispensation that should 
ensue. 

In her conformation, elements which constitute 
the basis for grand action existed, and yet she pos¬ 
sessed eminently germs of all the finest, most sensitive 
susceptibilities of modesty and retii ement. She com¬ 
bined the two best qualities of woman—practica¬ 
bility and silence. She was of a disposition more 
pensile to dictation than Martha's , yet somewhat 
like in activity. 

Though, at the time that we introduce her to our 
readers, of the age of forty, she was not nearly re¬ 
cognizable as that. So fresh and radiant were her 
personal charms, in fact, that Adrian was furnished 
with a new remark for each successive birthday 
anniversary, upon her improved bloom and beauty. 

Her skin was of pearly whiteness, with a soft, 
warm glow of peach in her cheeks ; eyes deep blue, 
tender, and full of love; eyes which talk as well as 
see. A deep dimple in her chin, which Adrian called 
the index of her mind; for when the sunshine of 
smiles came over it, it deepened in sympathy, when 



2o6 Jgyiw Jfewbls xxf fh$ 


seriousness prevailed, it nearly faded out. Her brow 
was, contrary to the usual contour of Eastern faces, 
high, of serene and noble character. 

Expression was what constituted principally her 
indescribable loveliness. She was of ordinary height, 
elastic in her movements, and poetical in her tem¬ 
peramental gestures. 

Electa’s voice was in itself a charm; through it 
the slightest emotion was discernible; the most 
delicate changes of feeling were declared in each 
inflection. It is, after all, no wonder that she was 
so lovely, for she was an elect lady, one whom 
guardian angels sustained, and through whom the 
holy light was to come, and who was meet to be 
exalted above an ordinary type. 

She was one day relating to her youngest, a 
bright, blue-eyed boy of six, some oriental fairy tale, 
when Gaius, her eldest-born, came in, his eyes glis¬ 
tening, his whole face full of excitement; but who 
was too well-trained, notwithstanding, to give utter¬ 
ance to any impetuous speech. 

The mother perceived that something of an inter¬ 
esting and novel nature had occurred, which he was 





20 7 


burning to tell her, who was his confidant and most 
intimate companion, but she drew a crimson-colored 
velvet cushion nearer to her, merely observing, “ Sit 
near to mother, my love.” 

Gaius took off the student’s cap from his head, 
and let the rich brown curls hang low upon his 
neck. 

His sensitive nostril dilated, and the red spot 
in his cheek indicated unusual excitement, but still 
he kept silent, waiting for his mother’s invitation to 
speak. 

The mother’s feeling was too tender to allow the 
effort for silence longer to pain him, so, after kissing 
the little one on her knee, and advising him to go 
gently down the flight of steps to the garden, she 
turned her face toward Gaius, placed her hand in 
his, and with the love-notes of her voice set to 
their sweetest cadence, she asked, “ What is it, my 
son?” 

Then the eloquent speech came fast and ardent. 
“ Mother, I have heard that there is a man called 
Jesus who is performing miracles such as none 
other, living, or dead, has ever done; there is a 



2o 8 JSvitrf; jewels of the CDrient. 


rumor that he has brought to life a young girl who 
was dead; there are diversities of opinion in regard 
to his origin and wonderful power; some contending 
that he is of Diabolus, others that he is of the Lord 
God, and, Mother, think what a monstrous sugges¬ 
tion ! that he is the Lord God himself.” 

His voice fell to a whisper, his excitement grew 
intense. Electa’s dimple was gone, the shade of 
deep thought was upon her. 

For one moment she sent her thoughts tele¬ 
graphing through Jewish tradition; her inspira¬ 
tional monitors crowded her mind and whispered: 
“ The Messiah!” She believed, she realized, she 
rejoiced, and she prophesied. 

Never had Gaius heard such words uttered as fell 
from the inspired lips of his mother; there seemed 
to have come a tongue of fire to point her language, 
and under the influence Gaius also became con¬ 
trolled, and they declared together that this Jesus 
was the Messiah that sweet-lipped Isaiah had sung 
about. 

That the revelation of a new dispensation was 
inaugurated, and that upon the Old Testament was 



Hlhfi Jlfcubtj —JFHlecta. 


209 


to be laid a page which would reveal its mystical 
pictures, and suit other coming eras. 

From this time forth she and Gaius talked to¬ 
gether of the prophecies of the old Bible, forming 
conclusions favorable to their peculiar views. 

A beautiful contrast the son and mother afforded, 
their heads bent together over the same volume, 
Gaius often raising his face, which was browned by 
his frequent excursions through the sunshine to 
Jerusalem; Electa’s face by his looking like a drift 
of snow. 

Enthusiastic and devoted, they enjoyed their opin¬ 
ions, and though Adrian was not convinced of the 
truth of Christ’s divine nature, he willingly listened. 
Adrian was slower to realize the divine light, and 
not until after Christ’s crucifixion and resurrection 
was he fully converted. 

Let our readers imagine after this with what 
interest Electa watched the course of events con¬ 
cerning the “ Son of Man,” how every rumor of a 
new miracle exalted her spirits, how news of his 
persecution, misappreciation, insult, and neglect, 
must have pained her, how useless seemed to her 



2iq Jgfttrs Jmzls of the 


rank, position, wealth, and friends, since he whom 
she so sincerely admired, loved, and reverenced, was 
an outcast, a wanderer, without a roof to shelter him. 

Many plans did her fertile fancy conceive for his 
benefit, but of little avail; and never once did she 
behold him. 

It was after the terrible tragedy of Gethsemane, 
when the disciples had been appointed by the risen 
Lord to preach; after he ascended to the Father, 
and sent his Spirit back to the apostles, which sat 
upon them and controlled them to utterances of his 
law and will, that Electa began to be most prac¬ 
tically serviceable in the cause of the disciples’ 
doctrine. 

Gaius made personal acquaintance with Jesus, 
and was an enthusiastic admirer of the beautiful 
Nazarene; he treasured up his sayings to repeat to 
his mother, and whenever he could, without giving 
offence, he had conveyed to Mary, the mother, who 
lived in Bethlehem, gifts of value through Martha 
and Mary of Bethany. 

After the miraculous resuscitation of Lazarus, the 
house of these sisters, and their names* became 



IjUtfoe —JKlccla. 


21 I 


traditional among many people fa* and near, and 
afterward, when Martha distinguished herself by 
her beautiful deportment at the feast given to Jesus 
during the Passover, she especially was much 
thought of by both friends of Jesus and those op¬ 
posed to him; for brave and beautiful actions will 
be recognized by all. 

Electa secured every report of the sayings and 
doings of Jesus, which, from such authority as that 
of Gaius, she could accredit, and these written man¬ 
uscripts were afterward very valuable in the compi¬ 
lation of the Gospels. 

Many of Electa’s proud friends regarded her 
slightingly, and sneered at her “foolish superstition.” 

Some even went so far as to declare that she was 
insane, and others discarded her from their enter¬ 
tainments, slighted her by indignities of non-recog¬ 
nition when they met in public, and in many ways 
besides they evinced contempt. 

Electa was human, therefore was not impervious 
to slights; her tender feelings were often grievously 
hurt at the disaffection of those in whom she had 
reposed confidence, and regarded as friends. 



212 jfewbls xxf thb rt. 

She made every advance that dignity would allow, 
but finally ceased to endeavor to conciliate those 
whom she knew had no real grounds for their offen¬ 
sive conduct. 

She remained apart from them as their conduct 
suggested, and in the heart of her family found 
repose. 

She received inward grace and instruction, which 
was worth more than all the assurances from those 
friends who in other days had expressed so much, 
yet who, upon a trivial turn of mere sentiment, had 
proved themselves, though mighty in pomp and 
power, hollow in heart, false in affection, and failing 
in friendship. 

In these days of her isolation from the society of 
the gay world, she formed acquaintance with some 
of the disciples, and was richly compensated for the 
loss of some who had professed the strongest inter¬ 
est in her, by the pleasant and instructive visits they 
made to her house. 

The mother of Jesus was a person of uncommon 
interest to Electa, and when she was informed of 
her anxiety and great grief, at the perils to which 



JpEbs Jffifcufey:—Jatonta. 


213 


her beloved son was exposed, Electa, with all the 
woman’s tenderness and the mother’s sympathy- 
stirring in her bosom, indited a letter to the 
anxious mother, in which there was the outpouring 
of genuine sympathy and sincerity, which rejoiced 
the heart of Mary. 

Electa invited her to make a visit to her house, 
hoping thereby to be able to minister somewhat to 
her comfort; but Mary was a careful mother, a 
busy housekeeper, in moderate circumstances, and 
had no time to make visits. 

Gaius increased in learning as well as stature, 
and was head of his classes in the colleges. His 
father designed him for the law, but this Gaius be¬ 
lieved unsuited to his talents. 

His mother’s heart dwelt wi^th honest pride upon 
her first-born, and in the twilight of evening might 
often be seen the two in confidential conference; 
the son, understanding the sorrow of the mother for 
the troubles of Jesus, strove to mitigate her grief 
by pointing to the high hope which might be pre¬ 
sumed Jesus entertained, of being delivered from 
his enemies and established upon a throne; but 



2i4 3 B\ive jewels of the dNient. 


Electa’s spiritual vision extended beyond the mate¬ 
rial plane, and she realized that Christ’s kingdom 
was not of changing, earthly character, but of an 
immortal, eternal foundation in the future world. 

Adrian listened to Electa and Gaius, who dis¬ 
cussed their faith in the infallibility of Jesus, and 
of his being really the Messiah, as one who is 
anxious to believe, and who is yet held back by 
some unfortunate vein of constitutional skepticism, 
and he sometimes ventured to remonstrate with his 
Electa upon the danger of becoming too much 
absorbed in a belief for which there was no settled 
basis. 

“ Sweet wife,” he would say, “ I love you too well 
not to be happy to see you enjoy whatever con¬ 
vinces your judgment and accords with your inten¬ 
tions, but possibly this man may not be aught more 
than other men. 

“ For his character I have great esteem; but I 
hear it said that he takes no great honor to himself, 
and that he openly declares he can, of .himself, do 
nothing, save what the Father gives him. 

“Were he what some infatuated zealots describe, 



JlUhs ^EfVutxv};—JlJibfrta, 


2l5 


would he be despised, poor, and lowly as he is? 
Would he not assert his supremacy by triumphing 
over his enemies ?” 

Electa would, at such points, lay her hand over 
his mouth and beg him to desist. 

Adrian listened to her exposition of the theory, 
but Electa’s prophetic teaching was not to be com¬ 
prehended by his matter-of-fact mind. 

He judged as men judge, and not by the spirit, 
yet he sought to know more; and when the news 
of the accusation and trial of Jesus met his ears, 
he went to Jerusalem, was present at the trial, 
heard the decision, and was one who joined in 
bringing a plea for the innocent man, against 
whom no charge could be laid other than that 
of healing the sick, bringing the dead to life, 
restoring the sight of the blind, and curing luna¬ 
tics. 

But of no avail was his plea; the decree went 
forward into effect. Barrabas was released and 
Jesus was offered up upon the cross. 

After the terrible tragedy, dreading the effect that 
this sad news would have upon his beloved wife, 



2i6 Jftewfcls ixf th£ 


Adrian, upon Iris return from Jerusalem, was careful 
to approach the subject warily. 

When Electa saw him coming, she took hold of 
the hand of the household pet, their, youngest-born, 
and, with the alacrity of a girl, ran down the broad 
flight of steps which led from the terrace, and out 
into the avenue. 

Adrian beheld her, sprang from his chariot, went 
forward, and in a moment had her in his arms. 
There was a silent expression in the nervous touch 
of his hand, the peculiar earnestness of his embrace, 
which conveyed to the quick senses of the wife that 
something unusual was stirring in the soul of him 
who was her double self; but with her usual refine¬ 
ment of prudence she kept silence, only pressed 
her face more closely to his bosom, and once more 
caressed his lips. 

Little Marcellus, clamorous for his share of atten¬ 
tion, made good excuse for Adrian to hide his emo¬ 
tion, and taking in his arms the intelligent, beautiful 
little fellow, he started forward with the words, 
“ Come, my precious,” to Electa. 

After Marcellus had lavished a score of infantile 



Jplhe Jlfcutitj:—yglecta. 


217 


endearments upon his father, a thought seemed to 
control his sympathetic mind; he glanced at his 
mother, then at his father, and said: “ Father, tell 
my mother about Jesus of Nazareth.” Electa’s eyes 
flew to Adrian’s ; alas! she read disaster and tribu¬ 
lation for the Christ in Adrian’s look. 

Unable to keep silence longer, she exclaimed: 
“ Tell me, Adrian, what has happened. I feel, I 
know, that some calamity has overtaken that holy 
man.” 

Adrian drew her with his left*arm to his side, 
glad to escape the inquisition of her eyes, and slowly 
answered, “ My wife, there has indeed happened to 
the Nazarene a great tragedy, an awful fate; but as 
you have faith in his immortality, and in the divinity 
of his nature, you should not tremble when I relate 
that he is already, according to your doctrine, with 
* The Father.’ As a soldier of his cross, you must 
not flinch when I tell you that ‘ The Son of Man’ 
was executed yesterday upon a cross. 

“ Think of him only as your Lord, who is beyond 
the need of your tears. To his- mother and those 

excellent women who must be plunged into irreme- 
10 



218 j^eurAts trf th$ CDmttt. 


diable grief turn your thoughts, call up your prac¬ 
tical talents, and let your generosity, free and un¬ 
conditional as it always is, extend toward them; 
strive to comfort them by acts of attention, com¬ 
mand me, command our means, give full play to 
your principles of benevolence in this terrible crisis. 

My heart bleeds for them , my wife, not for him, 
whose countenance bore the impress of peace and 
power. Never, never, have I seen face of man shine 
as did the face of Jesus.” 

Electa was fainting; hastily putting the little boy 
from his arms, he took her in his tender hold, went 
to one of the nearest fountains, laid her sweet form 
upon the green grass, dipped up water and held it 
to her lips, calling her by every endearing appella¬ 
tion which his aroused anxieties suggested. 

These tender love remedies restored her. She 
sat up, but shed no tears, only repeated the words: 
“ Ascended to the Father.” 

As she gradually realized the sad fact of the suf¬ 
fering of the beloved Christ, she was overwhelmed 
with tears, which had the effect of relieving her. 

She seated herself in a bower, and with her head 





219 


buried in Adrian’s bosom, listened to the whole 
story which he graphically related. 

"When he concluded, she raised her eyes to 
heaven, clasped her hands, and vowed that so long 
as she might live she would never again repine, let 
come whatever affliction there might. 

I will emulate this patient Lord, who, though the 
floodgates of trial were opened upon him, never 
shrank from a cheerful performance of duty, never 
gave vent to complaint, and .was never heard to 
murmur. 

By the time that Gaius, who was in Borne, re¬ 
turned, the common wonder and interest of the peo¬ 
ple was stirred into thrilling inquiry of the proba¬ 
bility of the Divine nature of the martyr. The 
forms which came up from the graves and walked 
openly before the people, the darkness that had 
settled over the world, the obscurity of the sun, the 
earthquake, were all supernatural phenomena, and 
his words, parables, and sayings, became familiarly 
quoted by all classes. 

No man who had ever lived became so famous 


after death. 



220 xxf tbs d§)t[i£#i 


Electa’s health suffered somewhat, and about a 
year after this, her husband, who was watchful of 
the least varying shade in her condition, solicitous 
to the most lover-like anxiety, prevailed on her to 
go with him to Athens, where she might secure the 
best medical advice. 

After Electa had selected many articles of utility, 
and dispatched them to Mary, the mother of Jesus, 
who was very poor, with a large family to superin¬ 
tend, and many domestic cares besides the burden 
of her son’s death, she and her two youngest chil¬ 
dren, their attendant, and Adrian, went to the re¬ 
nowned city of Athens. 

Electa recovered her bloom and usual elasticity, 
and sought the most intricate portions of the town, 
in search of historic places and scenery. 

One day, as she passed a house on the outskirts 
of the suburbs, she heard voices singing sweet 
hymns of a “Spiritual character; there was some¬ 
thing so wondrously plaintive in the nature of the 
strains that she begged Adrian to go with her to 
the very spot, to ascertain who were the singers. 
Adrian, who refused her nothing, accorded his com- 





221 


pliance, and, after winding np several pairs of stairs, 
they found themselves in a large room, in which was 
assembled a large number of men and women. 

Electa had never seen any form of worship be¬ 
sides the heathen worship, and that of the Jewish 
tabernacle. Her own heart knew its own forms, but 
the rites, postures, and the peculiar usages of the 
disciples she had never witnessed. 

The song ended, here was one man kneeling with 
hands clasped and eyes raised, while his voice 
ascended in the most earnest supplication to an 
invisible power; all the rest of the assembly were 
also kneeling, with their heads bent in their open 
palms; to the risen Christ the appeal was made. 
It was a little band of men persecuted and afraid, 
who had been baptized with inspiration, and were 
en rapport with the ascended Jesus; a company of 
disciples of whom she had heard, but never before 
had met. 

Her heart burned within her; she stood contem¬ 
plating the scene until the prayer was ended; then, 
being observed by the meeting, seats were offered to 
Adrian and herself, and they also rested. 



222 xxf (SDtisni. 


Silas and Timotheus conducted this little meet¬ 
ing; each spoke with burning eloquence of their 
knowledge of the soul’s immortality; they related 
their experiences of seeing and conversing with 
Jesus after his resurrection, and cited the instance 
of John’s witnessing the transfiguration on the 
Mount, when the spirits of Moses and Elias had 
manifested themselves. 

Imagine the enthusiasm of our beautiful Electa 
as she drank in these accounts, which so well 
accorded with her own impressional experience. 
Adrian was there converted to a full belief in the 
doctrines of the apostles, and much cause had Electa 
to rejoice that she had followed the sound of the 
sacred singing on that ever well-remembered even¬ 
ing. 

Frequently after this Electa went with Adrian to 
the meetings of the disciples, and her ready zeal 
gave an impetus to many who were nearly lost in 
doubt. 

The things that the apostles did were of so start¬ 
ling a nature that many hesitated between two be-: 
liefs, some imputing their gifts to an evil source. 



JpUhc JGc£ii1iij—JHlecta. 


223 


At Athens, Electa took her little boys to the 
feasts of idolatry, which were celebrated with great 
splendor; she wished them to be informed on every 
point, to be able to form opinions and to judge all 
subjects for themselves. 

Athens at that time was almost wholly given to 
idolatry. 

Philosophers of the Epicureans and Stoics had 
great influence, and when the moral teaching of the 
disciples, which prescribed temperance and moder¬ 
ation, reached, through report, their ears, they were 
greatly offended, and thought that it was an effort 
to introduce new gods; and yet the Athenians were 
a wonder-loving people, were continually searching 
for novelty, and when some of them heard of Jesus, 
they erected a sign which bore the inscription, “ TO 
THE UNKNOWN GOD,” and blindly and igno¬ 
rantly worshipped this “ god” because of the novelty . 
There were others who were afraid of the power, 
and sought to confute the ablest advocates of Jesus. 

In this new and exciting field, Electa’s fine mind 
was exercised to study, and she embraced very 
rapidly the most advanced thoughts. 



224 Jfewais xrf <fDm#k 


She visited all places, and made good use of the 
opportunity to store the young intellects of her 
boys with information which, in the future, would 
be valuable. 

In maturer years these boys realized the benefit 
of having had so intelligent a mother to control 
their infantile minds, and secure them the education 
which her peculiarly sound judgment had made 
her conscious would be profitable and advantage¬ 
ous. 

Upon Mars’ hill often might be seen Adrian and 
Electa with the little boys, Marcellus and Alexan¬ 
der ; to these Adrian pointed out beauties in archi¬ 
tecture, explained dates, and described epochs con¬ 
nected with each. Electa’s ingenuity devised many 
a beautiful scheme for their edification and amuse¬ 
ment. 

It seems that prosperity had crowned all of 
Electa’s days, for no personal want or calamity 
had ever befallen her or her household. 

Munificence poured in its countless comforts and 
conveniences; good health had, with partiality, in¬ 
vested each of her children; physical beauty was 





225 


inherited jointly, from both father and mother, by 
each son. 

It was difficult to determine which boy might 
ripen into the greatest perfection, so full was each 
one of promise. 

Their princely home bloomed newly, as another 
year added fuller foliage to the trees, more numer¬ 
ous blossoms, and increase in every fruitful depart¬ 
ment ; flocks were added, ingenious devices which 
had been brought in vogue were applied, and refine¬ 
ment of art adapted through every avenue to each 
department. 

Nothing failed Adrian; his business capabilities 
extended to the minutest detail of finance, and 
revenue seemed to flow naturally to his de¬ 
mand. 

Through these years of ceaseless prosperity, 
Electa had been universally charitable. 

She practised benevolence and exercised charity 
continuously; was never arrogant, but, with sweet 
humility, occupied any place, however obscure, in 
which her presence and means might effect comfort 

and blessing. Tried by no sudden and absolute 
10 * 



226 jfewsis xxf ths dD^mvt 


reverse, the true metal of her nature had not as yet 
been tested. 

As a pampered child of fortune, we have so far 
known Electa. 

[t was in the spring-time, after Electa had been 
in Athens a year, when Adrian thought it best to 
return home and leave Gaius to make a tour of the 
Nile with his mother. 

Electa’s heart was pained at the separation, and, 
as she twined her arms about her beloved Adrian, 
forebodings of tragic, possible accident occurred to 
her. “I feel, I realize, Adrian,” she said, “that 
terror and catastrophe are rising in our sky; here¬ 
tofore we have had no adverse winds, now a tempest 
is brewing; something tells me so, and yet I do not 
know what voice it is that whispers to me; my 
Adrian, my best beloved, remember, let happen 
what will, that our hearts are one, our minds are 
one.” Adrian kissed away her tears, soothed her 
fears, and, by gentle persuasion, prepared her for 
the moment of parting. 

“ You, my birdie,” he said, “ have not yet learned 
to fly without me. Silence your apprehensions, 





227 


enjoy your trip, and return to me with blooming 
color, and in robust health. Nothing that I have 
seen in Athens can half-way compare with the 
beauty of my Electa’s eyes.” 

Theatres were the resort of all who aspired to 
high art, and histrionic representation was then the 
best school for literary students. 

Philosophers and sages hung suspended upon the 
mimic utterances of the drama, and stored their 
minds with hints of modes for future reformation of 
vice through this powerful avenue. 

After Adrian left, Electa went with Gaius to the 
great theatre, to see a performance which was in 
high vogue. It was there that Gaius for the first 
time beheld Persis; loved her upon first sight, and 
to whom he was afterward happily united in wedlock. 

It happened that the two families were at the 
same time tourists, and upon the banks of the most 
renowned river in the world, amidst the romance 
and blush of beautiful scenery, peace-engendering 
atmospheres, and harmonious circumstances, youth 
took on its sweetest, holiest, strongest, and freshest 
attitude, and discovered love. 



228 Jgfttrs bursts xxf 


The hearts of Persis and Gaius were like the 
mellow June morning, which emits the odors that 
the earth and air and sun and cloud have made the 
most redolent in sweets, and which by its own ardor 
fixes in one great realization. 

Their impressible affections received the touches 
of the inspirer, adapted every pleasing, passing 
strain to help make full the diapason of melody, har¬ 
mony, and time. Their courtship moved on oiled 
hinges, for there were no disapproving guardians to 
interfere. 

Persis was a Jewess, liberal in thought, and much 
affected by the teaching of Paul, who had for a 
short time preached in Athens; when the whole 
city seeming bent upon idolatry, he had, in the very 
teeth of danger, ventured to present Christ’s doc¬ 
trine. She was afterward converted, and fully en¬ 
tered into all plans of Gaius and Electa, for the 
support of the elders and scattered brethren. 

This was a season of especial pleasure to Electa; 
her forebodings wore off, she encouraged joy, and 
took hold of amusement with all the ardor of her 
enthusiastic nature. 





229 


When the sunset gilded the landscape, when the 
moon alone trod the sky, when their heavy vessel 
dipped deep and ploughed through the surge, she 
was impressible either to the sublime or apprecia¬ 
tive of the romantic. 

Marcellus kept a cabinet filled with each days’ 
spoils, and Alexander saved specimens of plants and 
shells, which his mother took great pains to arrange. 

Women were regarded in high esteem in a day 
and age when some of the most powerful monarchs 
that ever sat upon a throne were of that sex. 

Among the Jews also women served in the taber¬ 
nacle and were prophetesses, whose oracles were 
sought after and adopted by philosophers and sages. 

Woman was not oppressed and secondarily re¬ 
garded, by any means, but they were responsible 
money-holders, merchants, and preachers. 

Women spoke in public and exhorted in private 
assemblies. St. Paul, the celebrated orator, like all 
great geniuses, had peculiarities of opinion ; woman 
was to *him evidently a sealed book; he disap¬ 
proved of the custom of the women of the period to 
exhort and speak, and advised them against it. 



230 ‘JE\iw Jfoureis xxf 


Some of the Hebrew women were especially 
earnest, strong, and deep in character; of clear, 
comprehensive intellects; ardent and devout in 
temperament. They were unlike the listless, supine 
orientals generally, and though domestic and meek, 
being contented in the sphere of home, they some¬ 
times made a wider sphere or went beyond, as their 
talents directed. 

Deborah had long before prophesied, been in¬ 
spired, and recited inspirational poems which were 
full of burning beauty and melting pathos. She 
also went out and sat under the shade of the palm- 
trees, and fearlessly judged Israel. 

Her name was famous among men, reverenced by 
the tribes, and handed down to posterity in connec¬ 
tion with some of the most startling prose poems 
that ever medium uttered; she was full of the in¬ 
spiration of genius, and was not afraid to speak it 
publicly. She even took part in the battles. 

The quiet incidents of Eleeta’s record were 
written chiefly through the hearts of ha*’ home 
circle. She had governed her household actively 
and diligently, and had been well reported of by 





231 


her neighbors and strangers. She had relieved the 
afflicted, and had poured oil into many a wounded 
spirit; had diligently followed every good work. 

She was a holy mother, a noble woman, who was 
fit and meet to be a follower of Christ. To per¬ 
petuate his principles and practise his divine 
example was her desire, in which she most happily 
succeeded. To her husband she had been the 
guiding star of life, the beacon of his aspiration, 
and the anchor of his hopes. 

“Woman! blest partner of our joys and woes; 

Even in the darkest hour of earthly ill, 

Untarnished yet thy fond affection glows, 

Throbs with each pulse, and beats with eveiy thrill 
When sorrow rends the heart, when feverish pain 
Wrings the hot drops of anguish from the brow,— 

To soothe the soul, to cool the burning brain, 

Oh! who so welcome and so prompt as thou ?” 

This was what Electa was to Adrian. But 
through rosy paths her life had always led, and no 
great trial of her virtues or sacrifice of ease had 
ever been called for. The time was near which 



232 J§\itrX5 xxf tbs 


would unfold the lofty attributes, the unflinching 
bravery of our Electa. 

After a most charming season had lent its bland¬ 
ishments to heap up pleasure to our travellers, when 
the spring and summer were over, and Gaius and 
his beloved Persis had settled all preliminaries, and 
were only waiting for a convenient day to solemnize 
their nuptials, a letter came to Electa full of appre¬ 
hensions of a terrible persecution which threatened 
the Christians. 

Rumors had reached Adrian of the confiscation 
of property, of fire and sword, and in one or 
two instances, of the murders of several Chris¬ 
tians. Electa knew Adrian’s habit of thought 
too well to suppose that any rumor of a trivial 
character or uncertain foundation would be suffi¬ 
cient to induce him to impart news which might 
possibly alarm her. 

She hastily made preparation for instant return, 
and, in company with the young bride and groom, 
she reached home just as the yellow began to 
paint the foliage, and fruit was golden with ripe¬ 


ness. 



JjElfrs —Jlltscta. 


233 


Tender was the meeting of husband and wife- 
and of mother and boys, who had been brought 
from school to meet her, but mixed with melan¬ 
choly and mystery, for Adrian was evidently con¬ 
cealing a secret; in every tone of his voice appre¬ 
hension was discernible. 

The lovely spot was lovelier than ever; nothing 
was neglected; beauty sat on everything. 

Marcellus and Alexander were wild with exuber¬ 
ance of delight at meeting their father and brothers, 
and Gaius, too happy in his new relation of hus¬ 
band, went hither and thither with his bride, 
revealing each day some unobserved corner in 
which a rare bird had its nest, a fountain sent its 
waters through mystical jets, or some attraction of 
delightful import met the senses. 

Meanwhile, a week passed, and amidst the de¬ 
lights of reunion, the general bustle of getting 
settled, Electa had not looked as deeply into 
Adrian’s mind, or weighed his peculiarity of man¬ 
ner as she would have done under ordinary, quiet 
circumstances; but at the end of that time, as she, 
Gaius, and Persis were occupied in some trivial 
individual concerns, a traveller arrived. 



234 jewels of the dDnieot. 


To Gaius, the appearance of John the Evangel¬ 
ist was indescribably pleasing. There had, for a 
long time, been an intimacy between these two 
young Christians, and John was most tenderly at¬ 
tached to Electa. He had often been heard to say 
that every Christian, every female virtue, centred in 
this chosen one. 

Sorrowful was his face on this occasion, when 
Electa, after having kissed him, proceeded, with 
her own fair hands, according to the custom among 
Jews and Christians, to wash his feet. 

Alas, he had nothing but recitals of trial and 
trouble and persecution to relate. 

The Christians were pursued, hunted out, and 
beaten down; no one who acknowledged the 
religion of the cross was safe from the penalty of 
the severest cruelties. 

He told her of horrible scenes, and to Adrian, 
and Gaius, and Persis as well, related the events 
which had lately transpired under his own notice. 

He himself had been subjected to the greatest 
straits; he dared not follow his peculiar business, 
his very tools were subject to the most unreason- 



JpQw 235 

able fines, and nobody would give their countenance 
to a disciple for fear of punishment in one form or 
another. 

Electa’s tears flowed abundantly, her sympathetic 
heart burned within her, and she longed to be able 
to manifest her devotion by practical work. 

After John left them, much comforted and re¬ 
freshed, Electa’s house became a refuge and a hos¬ 
pital for the persecuted, foot-sore, weary Christians; 
weary only in limb, not in spirit. 

Nothing could exceed the tenacity with which 
they unflinchingly clung to the faith of Jesus. 
Persis, with her own fair hands made useful articles 
of clothing, nursed the sick, bound up wounds, and 
performed menial offices for pilgrim Christians. 

Everything that their vast wealth had for years 
been storing came willingly into the hands of its 
owners for the use of these afflicted ones. 

It began to get unsafe for Adrian or Gaius to 
appear in public ; rumors had reached the rulers of 
their proclivities, and, although their high position 
and vast wealth gave them wide privilege, and con¬ 
sequence of no mean extent, they were yet not safe 



236 Jfewsis txi ths 


from the prejudices under which religious zeal, the 
most violent of all incentives, laid them. 

Gaius noticed the lowering brow, the suppressed 
murmurs, when his presence at any public meeting 
was noticed, and although his loyalty would have 
borne any test, yet his prudence pointed to him that 
it was best for him not to hasten any catastrophe. 

Electa realized inwardly, through her perceptive 
powers, that there was a heavy calamity impending. 

Active benevolent enterprise, in behalf of positive 
sufferers, sufficed to keep up her spirits; for her 
husband, her children, she dreaded the fate that 
she saw fixed. 

For herself, her faith was sufficient to convince 
her of her future immortality; she was not glad to 
leave the scene of life, but of her fate, as she said, 
she was fully convinced. 

Flocks and herds, money and provender, were all 
at the disposal of refugees and mourners. Much 
suffering there was now, and to her general sorrow 
there came a heart-rending, personal, family afflic¬ 
tion. 

During twenty-eight years of married life they 



JJElhD JSVttUy:—JSJisirta. 


237 


had never lost a child. At this season their 
intelligent, promising second son, David, died, and 
was buried in the great ancestral tomb which 
had for thirty years been unvisited by a new 
tenant. 

To all mothers who know this heart-rending grief 
our Electa will be an object of sympathy. She 
could not be rebellious to the will of God, but, as a 
mother, the strings of her heart were painfully 
strained. 

Afflictions came thick and heavy after this. 

From a disease of the optical nerve, Adrian 
became blind, first in one eye, then in both. It was 
a piteous sight to behold this model of manly beauty 
stricken down with darkness; to know that through 
the rest of his days no light of sun, moon, or stars 
was to gild his pathway : that through his Electa 
any avenue could alone be trod; only through her 
was life to be kept worth the having. 

And Electa ? In the last year her beautiful hair 
had grown gray, lines of care began to seam her 
brow and crease her cheek, and the rich color which 
had been remarkable in her complexion was waning 



238 .JSfttrs jfewAts xxf ths 


into pallor; but with the depreciation of her physi¬ 
cal bloom there was a more holy beauty shed over 
her countenance, the perfect reflection of the spirit¬ 
ual growth within. 

Their revenue was still large, but owing to the 
enormous taxation and other unusual drains, Gaius, 
who had now the control of his father’s business, 
found it necessary to retrench and economize. 

These beautiful grounds and fine mansion were 
the common resort for the afflicted Christians scat¬ 
tered throughout the country, and Electa’s name 
was a talisman to many a fainting heart. St. John 
hesitated not to claim her clemency, but made use 
of her liberality in all cases of distress that came 
immediately under his notice. 

Adrian sat about the garden with Electa or Mar- 
cellus by his side nearly the half of every day. He 
was inclined to melancholy, which added to Electa’s 
distress. His beautiful resignation to the affliction 
which had befallen him proved his submission and 
firm reliance upon a high Power, but his human 
nature would sometimes lament. 

After the family had been returned from the Nile 



IjE-lfte JHutotf—^EJiecta. 


239 


for about one year, Persis gave birth to a lovely 
babe, a little girl. Gaius was exceedingly proud of 
his little treasure, and more devoted than ever to 
its mother. 

When this little bud was four months old, Persis 
one day took it to a seat, near to the farthest 
fountain, which was occupied by Adrian. She 
laid it in his lap. Adrian caressed its little hands 
and feet, while the baby was delighted to twist 
its little fingers in the beard of Adrian, which crept 
like a drift of snow and lay upon the baby’s form. 

While the young mother knelt upon the sward 
watching with indescribable delight the intelligent 
glance of her first-born’s dark-brown eyes, several 
men approached. 

Persis’ heart beat. She knew that something 
unusual was astir, for these men were officers in 
the king’s uniform. 

Hastily clasping her babe in her arms, her next 
thought was for Electa, and she flew back through 
the nearest avenue, and found Electa busy with the 
services of the supper-hour, for she always superin¬ 
tended, and with her own hands helped to arrange, 



2.40 5g\ive jewels iif the (Detent. 


supper: “ Mother! mother!” cried Persis, “ there 
are soldiers in the garden talking to father.” 

Electa gave one swift, startled look toward her 
daughter-in-law, then calming herself, silently and 
majestically awaited what she felt would be a catas¬ 
trophe. 

Soon the same men, whom Electa’s quick eyes 
had perceived were armed with high authority, 
came confidently up the steps and forward into the 
pavilion, where Electa still stood rooted to the spot; 
but when they came near enough to perceive the 
beauty of her countenance, and its expression of 
strength and determination, they altered involun¬ 
tarily their manner, and stood at first with bowed 
heads, respectfully awaiting her speech. “ Where¬ 
fore, friends, are ye come?” inquired she, calmly. 

Then one, stepping forward, produced a scroll of 
parchment, and from it read the decree of the king. 
To this effect it ran, that all who confessed the 
doctrine of Christ were commanded to recant, or to 
be punished with imprisonment, trial, and perhaps 
death. 

The foremost speaker then took from under 





241 


his cloak a wooden cross, and placing it upon the 
floor, explained to Electa that, by simply placing 
her foot upon it, he would understand that she 
resigned her peculiar faith, and that she would 
be secure from any indignity or penalty. 

In an instant the dream that, many years ago, as 
related in the opening of our narrative, had dis¬ 
turbed her, flashed before her mental vision, and 
she realized its fulfillment. 

She stood unflinchingly before the officer, who, 
touched by her chaste beauty and evident superi¬ 
ority, endeavored to persuade her to take the 
step which would save them, for he plainly told 
her that each one of her family would alike have 
to suffer. 

Of course, Electa refused; she meekly folded 
her hands; then, in obedience to the sentence they 
uttered, she let them be manacled. 

Adrian, Gaius, Persis, and the next eldest 
boys were taken first to Jerusalem, were subse¬ 
quently transported to Eome, and imprisoned. 

There was some consideration shown the females, 

yet, for all that, the sufferings which they endured 
11 



242 Jr$VJ$U xxf tbS 


were intense. No friendship, no love, was sufficient 
to save them from the hardship incidental to prison 
life, and in six months our beautiful women, as well 
as the stouter men, were invalids, weak and pale, 
shadows of their former selves, but still buoyant in 
zeal, and resolved, if need be, to suffer martyrdom 
rather than renounce a religion in which they be¬ 
lieved. 

Adrian and Electa sang hymns sometimes, and 
the stern jailor many a time wiped tears from his 
eyes, as, when instead of threats and complaint, he 
heard them pray for their enemies. 

At the expiration of one year the Roman judge 
offered them another opportunity to recant. They 
refused, which was a sign of their death-warrant. 

Our sympathies are fain to close now, before the 
drama reaches the final act, tragical and horrible as 
it was; but our readers who have gone with us so 
far, would not be satisfied unless we showed them 
the finale; and, painful as is the task, we will yet, 
for their sakes, paint the scene of their end, in as 
moderate colors as the vivid subject will allow. 

The whole world of air, heaven, light, and motion, 



J^ETfte —^iscta. 


243 


was in its holiday garb, for it was the season of the 
year when nature seems to be decked on purpose 
for some gala festival, when Electa, wrapped in a 
scarlet gown, was seen behind the jailor, holding in 
convulsive clasp the head of her Adrian; again and 
again she pressed his sightless eyes to her bosom; 
then taking leave of her Gaius, her eldest-born, and 
Persis, her fond and faithful daughter-in-law, and 
successively of her children and grandchild, she 
told the jailor good-bye, and thanked him for his 
kindness to her and hers, was then rudely led for¬ 
ward by men of herculean forms, who fastened her 
to the heels of oxen, which were driven around the 
public squares. 

She was not suffered to expire in this way, but 
with the extreme refinement of cruelty, they restored 
her exhausted faculties by administering stimulants, 
and then, in the face of a large multitude, fastened 
her to a cross, where she, with these words on her 
lips, “Father, forgive them, they know not what 
they do, 5 ’ expired. 

The sun had not sent its last rays of gold over the 
scene ere Adrian, Gaius, and all the others, save 



244 J8\itrS Jr$ WX>ls Xrf tftb dDu.tettt. 


/ 

/ 


Marcellus and Alexander, were victims to tlie same 
barbarism. 

Owing to the tender ages of Marcellus and Alex¬ 
ander they were spared, though their patrimony 
was not allowed them. 

They devoted themselves to the infant left by 
Persis, and the educations which they had received 
secured them means of employment in schools of 
juvenile students; afterward they were professors in 
the university; and, after the furor subsided, and 
* men grew more tolerant of the Christian religion, 
they became distinguished as teachers and preach¬ 
ers ; but the tragedy of that golden sunset never laid 
its shadow. It was a memory which haunted them 
through all their subsequent lives. 












































































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